THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


PRESENTED  BY 

ELMA  HOOKER  IN  MEMORY  OF 
DR.  CHARLES  HOOKER 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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THEY  PEEPED  OUT  FROM  BEHIND  HER 


lliiiiliiiiiliii^^ 

THE  ADVENTURES  OF 

HUCKLEBERRY  FINN  1 

(TOM  SAWYER'S  COMRADE) 

SCENE:  THE  MISSISSIPPI  VALLEY 
TIME  :  FORTY  TO  FIFTY  YEARS  AGO 

BY 

MARK  TWAIN 

(SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS) 


ILLUSTRATED 


HARPER  &  BROTHERS 
EDITION 


H  PUBLISHED  BY 

P.  F.  COLLIER  &  SON  COMPANY 

fj  New  York 


THE  LIBRARY 

THE  UNIVERSITY      NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT  CHAPEL  WILL 


Th-  Adventures  of  Huckleberry  Finn 
Copyright,  1884,  by  Samuel  L.  Clemens 
Copyright,  1896  and  1899,  by  Harper  &  Brothers 
Copyright,  1912,  by  Clara  Gabrilowitsch 
Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

Notice  vii 

Explanatory  ,  .«  ix 

I.  I  Discover  Moses  and  the  Bulrushers  ....  i 

II.  Our  Gang's  Dark  Oath   6 

III.  We  Ambuscade  the  A-rabs   15 

IV.  The  Hair-ball  Oracle   21 

-  V.        Pap  Starts  in  on  a  New  Life   26 

VI.  Pap  Struggles  with  the  Death  Angel  ....  32 

VII.  I  Fool  Pap  and  Get  Away   42 

VIII.  I  Spare  Miss  Watson's  Jim   51 

IX.  The  House  of  Death  Floats  By   66 

X.  What  Comes  of  Handlin'  Snake-skin    ....  72 

XI.  They're  After  Us!   77 

XII.  "Better  Let  Blame  Well  Alone"   88 

XIII.  Honest  Loot  from  the  "Walter  Scott"   ...  98 

XIV.  Was  Solomon  Wise?   106 

XV.  Fooling  Poor  Old  Jim   112 

XVI.  The  Rattlesnake- skin  Does  Its  Work  ....  121 

XVII.  The  Grangerfords  Take  Me  In   133 

XVIII.  Why  Harney  Rode  Away  for  His  Hat    ...  146 

XIX.  The  Duke  and  the  Dauphin  Come  Aboard  .   .   .  163 

XX.  What  Royalty  Did  to  Parkville   175 

XXI.  An  Arkansaw  Difficulty   188 

XXII.  Why  the  Lynching  Bee  Failed   201 

XXIII.  The  Orneriness  of  Kings   209 

XXIV.  The  King  Turns  Parson   217 

XXV.  All  Full  of  Tears  and  Flapdoodle   226 

M.T.-3-1 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGB 

XXVI.  I  Steal  the  King's  Plunder   237 

XXVII.  Dead  Peter  has  His  Gold   248 

XXVIII.  Overreaching  Don't  Pay   258 

XXIX.  I  Light  Out  in  the  Storm   271 

XXX.  The  Gold  Saves  the  Thieves   285 

XXXI.  You  Can't  Pray  a  Lie   290 

XXXII.  I  Have  a  New  Name   303 

XXXIII.  The  Pitiful  Ending  of  Royalty   312 

XXXIV.  We  Cheer  Up  Jim   322 

XXXV.  Dark,  Deep-laid  Plans   330 

XXXVI.  Trying  to  Help  Jim   340 

XXXVII.  Jim  Gets  His  Witch-pie   348 

XXXVIII.  "Here  a  Captive  Heart  Busted"    ....  357 

XXXIX.  Tom  Writes  Nonnamous  Letters   366 

XL.  A  Mixed-up  and  Splendid  Rescue    ....  374 

XLL         "Must  'a'  Been  Sperits"    383 

XLIL        Why  They  Didn't  Hang  Jim    392 


Chapter  the  Last.  Nothing  More  to  Write  403 


NOTICE 


Persons  attempting  to  find  a  motive  in  this  narra- 
•  tive  will  be  prosecuted;  persons  attempting  to  find  a 
moral  in  it  will  be  banished;  persons  attempting  to 
find  a  plot  in  it  will  be  shot. 

By  Order  op  the  Author, 
Per  G.  G.,  Chief  of  Ordnance* 


EXPLANATORY 


IN  this  book  a  number  of  dialects  are  used,  to  wit: 
the  Missouri  negro  dialect;  the  extremest  form  of 
the  backwoods  Southwestern  dialect;  the  ordinary 
*'Pike  County"  dialect;  and  four  modified  varieties 
of  this  last.  The  shadings  have  not  been  done  in 
a  haphazard  fashion,  or  by  guesswork;  but  pains- 
takingly, and  with  the  trustworthy  guidance  and 
support  of  personal  familiarity  with  these  several 
forms  of  speech. 

I  make  this  explanation  for  the  reason  that  without 
it  many  readers  would  suppose  that  all  these  char- 
acters were  trying  to  talk  alike  and  not  succeeding. 

Tpe  Author, 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


CHAPTER  I 


OU  don't  know  about  me  without  you  have  read 


1  a  book  by  the  name  of  The  Adventures  of  Tom 
Sawyer;  but  that  ain't  no  matter.  That  book  was 
made  by  Mr.  Mark  Twain,  and  he  told  the  truth, 
mainly.  There  was  things  which  he  stretched,  but 
mainly  he  told  the  truth.  That  is  nothing.  I  never 
seen  anybody  but  lied  one  time  or  another,  without  it 
was  Aunt  Polly,  or  the  widow,  or  maybe  Mary. 
Aunt  Polly—Tom's  Aunt  Polly,  she  is — and  Mary, 
and  the  Widow  Douglas  is  all  told  about  in  that 
book,  which  is  mostly  a  true  book,  with  some 
stretchers,  as  I  said  before. 

Now  the  way  that  the  book  winds  up  is  this:  Tom 
and  me  found  the  money  that  the  robbers  hid  in  the 
cave,  and  it  made  us  rich.  We  got  six  thousand 
dollars  apiece — all  gold.  It  was  an  awful  sight  of 
money  when  it  was  piled  up.  Well,  Judge  Thatcher 
he  took  it  and  put  it  out  at  interest,  and  it  fetched  us 
a  dollar  a  day  apiece  all  the  year  round — more  than 
a  body  could  tell  what  to  do  with.  The  Widow 
Douglas  she  took  me  for  her  son,  and  allowed  she 


MARK  TWAIN 


would  sivilize  me;  but  it  was  rough  living  in  the 
house  all  the  time,  considering  how  dismal  regular 
and  decent  the  widow  was  in  all  her  ways;  and  so 
when  I  couldn't  stand  it  no  longer  I  lit  out.  I  got 
into  my  old  rags  and  my  sugar-hogshead  again,  and 
was  free  and  satisfied.  But  Tom  Sawyer  he  hunted 
me  up  and  said  he  was  going  to  start  a  band  of 
robbers,  and  I  might  join  if  I  would  go  back  to  the 
widow  and  be  respectable.    So  I  went  back. 

The  widow  she  cried  over  me,  and  called  me  a  poor 
lost  lamb,  and  she  called  me  a  lot  of  other  names, 
too,  but  she  never  meant  no  harm  by  it.  She  put  me 
in  them  new  clothes  again,  and  I  couldn't  do  nothing 
but  sweat  and  sweat,  and  feel  all  cramped  up.  Well, 
then,  the  old  thing  commenced  again.  The  widow 
rung  a  bell  for  supper,  and  you  had  to  come  to  time. 
When  you  got  to  the  table  you  couldn't  go  right  to 
eating,  but  you  had  to  wait  for  the  widow  to  tuck 
down  her  head  and  grumble  a  little  over  the  victuals, 
though  there  warn't  really  anything  the  matter  with 
them — that  is,  nothing  only  everything  was  cooked 
by  itself.  In  a  barrel  of  odds  and  ends  it  is  different ; 
things  get  mixed  up,  and  the  juice  kind  of  swaps 
around,  and  the  things  go  better. 

After  supper  she  got  out  her  book  and  learned  me 
about  Moses  and  the  Bulrushers,  and  I  was  in  a  sweat 
to  find  out  all  about  him ;  but  by  and  by  she  let  it  out 
that  Moses  had  been  dead  a  considerable  long  time; 
so  then  I  didn't  care  no  more  about  him,  because  I 
don't  take  no  stock  in  dead  people. 

Pretty  soon  I  wanted  to  smoke,  and  asked  the 
widow  to  let  me.    But  she  wouldn't.    She  said  it 

2 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


was  a  meat?  practice  and  wasn't  clean,  and  I  must  try 
to  not  do  it  any  more.  That  is  just  the  way  with 
some  peoplte.  They  get  down  on  a  thing  when  they 
don't  know  nothing  about  it.  Here  she  was  a- 
bothering  about  Moses,  which  was  no  kin  to  her,  and 
no  use  to  anybody,  being  gone,  you  see,  yet  finding  a 
power  of  fault  with  me  for  doing  a  thing  that  had 
some  good  in  it.  And  she  took  snuff,  too;  of  course 
that  was  all  right,  because  she  done  it  herself. 

Her  sister,  Miss  Watson,  a  tolerable  slim  old  maid, 
with  goggles  on,  had  just  come  to  live  with  her,  and 
took  a  set  at  me  now  with  a  spelling-book.  She 
worked  me  middling  hard  for  about  an  hour,  and  then 
the  widow  made  her  ease  up.  I  couldn't  stood  it 
much  longer.  Then  for  an  hour  it  was  deadly  dull, 
and  I  was  fidgety.  Miss  Watson  would  say,  ' '  Don't 
put  your  feet  up  there,  Huckleberry";  and  " Don't 
scrunch  up  like  that,  Huckleberry — set  up  straight"; 
and  pretty  soon  she  would  say,  1 1  Don't  gap  and 
stretch  like  that,  Huckleberry — why  don't  you  try  to 
behave?"  Then  she  told  me  all  about  the  bad  place, 
and  I  said  I  wished  I  was  there.  She  got  mad  then, 
but  I  didn't  mean  no  harm.  All  I  wanted  was  to  go 
somewheres;  all  I  wanted  was  a  change,  I  warn't 
particular.  She  said  it  was  wicked  to  say  what  I  said; 
said  she  wouldn't  say  it  for  the  whole  world ;  she  was 
going  to  live  so  as  to  go  to  the  good  place.  Well,  I 
couldn't  see  no  advantage  in  going  where  she  was 
going,  so  I  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  try  for  it. 
But  I  never  said  so,  because  it  would  only  make 
trouble,  and  wouldn't  do  no  good. 

Now  she  had  got  a  start,  and  she  went  on  and  told 

3 


MARK  TWAIN 


me  all  about  the  good  place.  She  said  all  a  body 
would  have  to  do  there  was  to  go  around  all  day  long 
with  a  harp  and  sing,  forever  and  ever.  So  I  didn't 
think  much  of  it.  But  I  never  said  so.  I  asked  her  if 
she  reckoned  Tom  Sawyer  would  go  there,  and  she 
said  not  by  a  considerable  sight.  I  was  glad  about 
that,  because  I  wanted  him  and  me  to  be  together. 

Miss  Watson  she  kept  pecking  at  me,  and  it  got 
tiresome  and  lonesome.  By  and  by  they  fetched  the 
niggers  in  and  had  prayers,  and  then  everybody  was 
off  to  bed.  I  went  up  to  my  room  with  a  piece  of 
candle,  and  put  it  on  the  table.  Then  I  set  down  in  a 
chair  by  the  window  and  tried  to  think  of  something 
cheerful,  but  it  warn't  no  use.  I  felt  so  lonesome  I 
most  wished  I  was  dead.  The  stars  were  shining,  and 
the  leaves  rustled  in  the  woods  ever  so  mournful;  and 
I  heard  an  owl,  away  off,  who-whooing  about  some- 
body that  was  dead,  and  a  whippowill  and  a  dog  cry- 
ing about  somebody  that  was  going  to  die;  and  the 
wind  was  trying  to  whisper  something  to  me,  and  I 
couldn't  make  out  what  it  was,  and  so  it  made  the 
cold  shivers  run  over  me.  Then  away  out  in  the 
woods  I  heard  that  kind  of  a  sound  that  a  ghost 
makes  when  it  wants  to  tell  about  something  that's 
on  its  mind  and  can't  make  itself  understood,  and  so 
can't  rest  easy  in  its  grave,  and  has  to  go  about  that 
way  every  night  grieving.  I  got  so  downhearted 
and  scared  I  did  wish  I  had  some  company.  Pretty 
soon  a  spider  went  crawling  up  my  shoulder,  and  I 
flipped  it  off  and  it  lit  in  the  candle;  and  before  I 
could  budge  it  was  all  shriveled  up.  I  didn't  need 
anybody  to  tell  me  that  that  was  an  awful  bad  sign 

4 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


and  would  fetch  me  some  bad  luck,  so  I  was  scared 
and  most  shook  the  clothes  off  of  me.  I  got  up 
and  turned  around  in  my  tracks  three  times  and 
crossed  my  breast  every  time;  and  then  I  tied  up  a 
little  lock  of  my  hair  with  a  thread  to  keep  witches 
away.  But  I  hadn't  no  confidence.  You  do  that 
when  you've  lost  a  horseshoe  that  you've  found, 
instead  of  nailing  it  up  over  the  door,  but  I  hadn't 
ever  heard  anybody  say  it  was  any  way  to  keep  off 
bad  luck  when  you'd  killed  a  spider. 

I  set  down  again,  a-shaking  all  over,  and  got  out 
my  pipe  for  a  smoke;  for  the  house  was  all  as  still  as 
death  now,  and  so  the  widow  wouldn't  know.  Well, 
after  a  long  time  I  heard  the  clock  away  off  in  the 
town  go  boom— boom — boom — twelve  licks;  and 
all  still  again-— stiller  than  ever.  Pretty  soon  I  heard 
a  twig  snap  down  in  the  dark  amongst  the  trees — 
something  was  a-stirring.  I  set  still  and  listened. 
Directly  I  could  just  barely  hear  a  "me-yow!  me- 
yow!"  down  there.  That  was  good!  Says  I,  (Cme- 
yow!  me-yowV  as  soft  as  I  could,  and  then  I  put 
out  the  light  and  scrambled  out  of  the  window  on  to 
the  shed.  Then  I  slipped  down  to  the  ground  and 
crawled  in  among  the  trees,  and,  sure  enough,  there 
was  Tom  Sawyer  waiting  for  me, 


5 


CHAPTER  II 


WE  went  tiptoeing  along  a  path  amongst  the 
trees  back  toward  the  end  of  the  widow's 
garden,  stooping  down  so  as  the  branches  wouldn't 
scrape  our  heads.  When  we  was  passing  by  the 
kitchen  I  fell  over  a  root  and  made  a  noise.  We 
scrouched  down  and  laid  still.  Miss  Watson's  big 
nigger,  named  Jim,  was  setting  in  the  kitchen  door; 
we  could  see  him  pretty  clear,  because  there  was  a 
light  behind  him.  He  got  up  and  stretched  his  neck 
out  about  a  minute,  listening.  Then  he  says: 
"Who  dah?" 

He  listened  some  more ;  then  he  came  tiptoeing  down 
and  stood  right  between  us;  we  could  'a'  touched 
him,  nearly.  Well,  likely  it  was  minutes  and  minutes 
that  there  warn't  a  sound,  and  we  all  there  so  close 
together.  There  was  a  place  on  my  ankle  that  got  to 
itching,  but  I  dasn't  scratch  it ;  and  then  my  ear  begun 
to  itch;  and  next  my  back,  right  between  my  shoul- 
ders. Seemed  like  I'd  die  if  I  couldn't  scratch.  Well, 
I've  noticed  that  thing  plenty  times  since.  If  you  are 
with  the  quality,  or  at  a  funeral,  or  trying  to  go  to 
sleep  when  you  ain't  sleepy — if  you  are  anywheres 
where  it  won't  do  for  you  to  scratch,  why  you  will  itch 
all  over  in  upward  of  a  thousand  places.  Pretty  sooo 
Jim  says: 

6 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

"Say,  who  is  you?  Whar  is  you?  Dog  my  cats 
ef  I  didn'  hear  sumf  'n.  Well,  I  know  what  I's  gwyne 
to  do:  I's  gwyne  to  set  down  here  and  listen  tell  I 
hears  it  ag'in." 

So  he  set  down  on  the  ground  betwixt  me  and  Tom. 
He  leaned  his  back  up  against  a  tree,  and  stretched 
his  legs  out  till  one  of  them  most  touched  one  of  mine. 
My  nose  begun  to  itch.  It  itched  till  the  tears  come 
into  my  eyes.  But  I  dasn't  scratch.  Then  it  begun 
to  itch  on  the  inside.  Next  I  got  to  itching  under- 
neath. I  didn't  know  how  I  was  going  to  set  still. 
This  miserableness  went  on  as  much  as  six  or  seven 
minutes;  but  it  seemed  a  sight  longer  than  that.  I 
was  itching  in  eleven  different  places  now.  I 
reckoned  I  couldn't  stand  it  more'n  a  minute  longer, 
but  I  set  my  teeth  hard  and  got  ready  to  try.  Just 
then  Jim  begun  to  breathe  heavy;  next  he  begun 
to  snore — and  then  I  was  pretty  soon  comfortable 
again. 

Tom  he  made  a  sign  to  me — kind  of  a  little  noise 
with  his  mouth — and  we  went  creeping  away  on  our 
hands  and  knees.  When  we  was  ten  foot  off  Tom 
whispered  to  me,  and  wanted  to  tie  Jim  to  the  tree  for 
fun.  But  I  said  no;  he  might  wake  and  make  a  dis- 
turbance, and  then  they'd  find  out  I  warn't  in.  Then 
Tom  said  he  hadn't  got  candles  enough,  and  he  would 
slip  in  the  kitchen  and  get  some  more.  I  didn't  want 
him  to  try.  I  said  Jim  might  wake  up  and  come. 
But  Tom  wanted  to  resk  it ;  so  we  slid  in  there  and 
got  three  candles,  and  Tom  laid  five  cents  on  the 
table  for  pay.  Then  we  got  out,  and  I  was  in  a  sweat 
to  get  away;  but  nothing  would  do  Tom  but  he 

7 


MARK  TWAIN 


must  crawl  to  where  Jim  was,  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  and  play  something  on  him.  I  waited,  and 
it  seemed  a  good  while,  everything  was  so  still  and 
lonesome. 

As  soon  as  Tom  was  back  we  cut  along  the  path, 
around  the  garden  fence,  and  by  and  by  fetched  up  on 
the  steep  top  of  the  hill  the  other  side  of  the  house. 
Tom  said  he  slipped  Jim's  hat  off  of  his  head  and  hung 
it  on  a  limb  right  over  him,  and  Jim  stirred  a  little, 
but  he  didn't  wake.  Afterward  Jim  said  the  witches 
bewitched  him  and  put  him  in  a  trance,  and  rode  him 
all  over  the  state,  and  then  set  him  under  the  trees 
again,  and  hung  his  hat  on  a  limb  to  show  who  done 
it.  And  next  time  Jim  told  it  he  said  they  rode  him 
down  to  New  Orleans;  and,  after  that,  every  time  he 
told  it  he  spread  it  more  and  more,  till  by  and  by  he 
said  they  rode  him  all  over  the  world,  and  tired  him 
most  to  death,  and  his  back  was  all  over  saddle-boils. 
Jim  was  monstrous  proud  about  it,  and  he  got  so  he 
wouldn't  hardly  notice  the  other  niggers.  Niggers 
would  come  miles  to  hear  Jim  tell  about  it,  and  he  was 
more  looked  up  to  than  any  nigger  in  that  country. 
Strange  niggers  would  stand  with  their  mouths  open 
and  look  him  all  over,  same  as  if  he  was  a  wonder. 
Niggers  is  always  talking  about  witches  in  the  dark  by 
the  kitchen  fire;  but  whenever  one  was  talking  and 
letting  on  to  know  all  about  such  things,  Jim  would 
happen  in  and  say,  "Hm!  What  you  know  'bout 
witches  ?"  and  that  nigger  was  corked  up  and  had  to 
take  a  back  seat.  Jim  always  kept  that  five-center 
piece  round  his  neck  with  a  string,  and  said  it  was  a 
charm  the  devil  give  to  him  with  his  own  hands,  and 

8 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


told  him  he  could  cure  anybody  with  it  and  fetch 
witches  whenever  he  wanted  to  just  by  saying  some- 
thing to  it ;  but  he  never  told  what  it  was  he  said  to  it. 
Niggers  would  come  from  all  around  there  and  give 
Jim  anything  they  had,  just  for  a  sight  of  that  five- 
center  piece;  but  they  wouldn't  touch  it,  because  the 
devil  had  had  his  hands  on  it.  Jim  was  most  ruined 
for  a  servant,  because  he  got  stuck  up  on  account  of 
having  seen  the  devil  and  been  rode  by  witches. 

Well,  when  Tom  and  me  got  to  the  edge  of  the  hill- 
top we  looked  away  down  into  the  village  and  could 
see  three  or  four  lights  twinkling,  where  there  was 
sick  folks,  maybe;  and  the  stars  over  us  was  spark- 
ling ever  so  fine;  and  down  by  the  village  was  the 
river,  a  whole  mile  broad,  and  awful  still  and  grand. 
We  went  down  the  hill  and  found  Joe  Harper  and  Ben 
Rogers,  and  two  or  three  more  of  the  boys,  hid  in  the 
old  tanyard.  So  we  unhitched  a  skifT  and  pulled 
down  the  river  two  mile  and  a  half,  to  the  big  scar 
on  the  hillside,  and  went  ashore. 

We  went  to  a  clump  of  bushes,  and  Tom  made 
everybody  swear  to  keep  the  secret,  and  then  showed 
them  a  hole  in  the  hill,  right  in  the  thickest  part  of  the 
bushes.  Then  we  lit  the  candles,  and  crawled  in  on 
our  hands  and  knees.  We  went  about  two  hundred 
yards,  and  then  the  cave  opened  up.  Tom  poked 
about  amongst  the  passages,  and  pretty  soon  ducked 
under  a  wall  where  you  wouldn't  'a'  noticed  that  there 
was  a  hole.  We  went  along  a  narrow  place  and  got 
into  a  kind  of  room,  all  damp  and  sweaty  and  cold, 
and  there  we  stopped.   Tom  says : 

"Now,  well  start  this  band  of  robbers  and  call  it 

9 


MARK  TWAIN 


Tom  Sawyer's  Gang.  Everybody  that  wants  to  join 
has  got  to  take  an  oath,  and  write  his  name  in  blood.' 1 

Everybody  was  willing.  So  Tom  got  out  a  sheet  of 
paper  that  he  had  wrote  the  oath  on,  and  read  it.  It 
swore  every  boy  to  stick  to  the  band,  and  never  tell 
any  of  the  secrets;  and  if  anybody  done  anything  to 
any  boy  in  the  band,  whichever  boy  was  ordered  to 
kill  that  person  and  his  family  must  do  it,  and  he 
mustn't  eat  and  he  mustn't  sleep  till  he  had  killed 
them  and  hacked  a  cross  in  their  breasts,  which  was 
the  sign  of  the  band.  And  nobody  that  didn't  belong 
to  the  band  could  use  that  mark,  and  if  he  did  he 
must  be  sued;  and  if  he  done  it  again  he  must  be 
killed.  And  if  anybody  that  belonged  to  the  band 
told  the  secrets,  he  must  have  his  throat  cut,  and  then 
have  his  carcass  burnt  up  and  the  ashes  scattered  all 
around,  and  his  name  blotted  off  the  list  with  blood 
and  never  mentioned  again  by  the  gang,  but  have  a 
curse  put  on  it  and  be  forgot  forever. 

Everybody  said  it  was  a  real  beautiful  oath,  and 
asked  Tom  if  he  got  it  out  of  his  own  head.  He  said 
some  of  it,  but  the  rest  was  out  of  pirate-books  and 
robber-books,  and  every  gang  that  was  high-toned 
had  it. 

Some  thought  it  would  be  good  to  kill  the  families 
of  boys  that  told  the  secrets.  Tom  said  it  was  a  good 
idea,  so  he  took  a  pencil  and  wrote  it  in.  Then  Ben 
Rogers  says: 

"Here's  Huck  Finn,  he  hain't  got  no  family;  what 
you  going  to  do  'bout  him?" 

"Well,  hain't  he  got  a  father?"  says  Tom  Sawyer. 

"Yes,  he's  got  a  father,  but  you  can't  never  find 

xo 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


nim  these  days.  He  used  to  lay  drunk  with  the  hogs 
in  the  tanyard,  but  he  hain't  been  seen  in  these  parts 
for  a  year  or  more." 

They  talked  it  over,  and  they  was  going  to  rule  me 
out,  because  they  said  every  boy  must  have  a  family 
or  somebody  to  kill,  or  else  it  wouldn't  be  fair  and 
square  for  the  others.  Well,  nobody  could  think  of 
anything  to  do — everybody  was  stumped,  and  set 
still.  I  was  most  ready  to  cry;  but  all  at  once  I 
thought  of  a  way,  and  so  I  offered  them  Miss  Watson 
— they  could  kill  her.   Everybody  said: 

"Oh,  she'll  do.  That's  all  right.  Huck  can  come 
in." 

Then  they  all  stuck  a  pin  in  their  fingers  to  get 
blood  to  sign  with,  and  I  made  my  mark  on  the  paper. 

"Now,"  says  Ben  Rogers,  "what's  the  line  of 
business  of  this  Gang?" 

"Nothing  only  robbery  and  murder,"  Tom  said. 

"But  who  are  we  going  to  rob? — houses,  or  cattle, 
or—" 

"Stuff!  stealing  cattle  and  such  things  ain't  rob- 
bery;, it's  burglary,"  says  Tom  Sawyer.  "We  ain't 
burglars.  That  ain't  no  sort  of  style.  We  are  high- 
waymen. We  stop  stages  and  carriages  on  the  road, 
with  masks  on,  and  kill  the  people  and  take  theif 
watches  and  money." 

"Must  we  always  kill  the  people?" 

"Oh,  certainly.  It's  best.  Some  authorities  think 
different,  but  mostly  it's  considered  best  to  kill  them 
— except  some  that  you  bring  to  the  cave  here,  and 
keep  them  till  they're  ransomed." 

"Ransomed?  What's  that?" 

ii 


MARK  TWAIN 


MI  don't  know.  But  that's  what  they  do.  I've 
seen  it  in  books;  and  so  of  course  that's  what  we've 
got  to  do." 

*  'But  how  can  we  do  it  if  we  don't  know  what  it  is  ?" 

"Why,  blame  it  all,  we've  got  to  do  it.  Don't  I  tell 
you  it's  in  the  books?  Do  you  want  to  go  to  doing 
different  from  what's  in  the  books,  and  get  things  all 
muddled  up?" 

"Oh,  that's  all  very  fine  to  say,  Tom  Sawyer,  but 
how  in  the  nation  are  these  fellows  going  to  be  ran- 
somed if  we  don't  know  how  to  do  it  to  them? — that's 
the  thing  I  want  to  get  at.  Now,  what  do  you  reckon 
it  is?" 

4  4  Well,  I  don't  know.  But  per'aps  if  we  keep  them 
till  they're  ransomed,  it  means  that  we  keep  them  till 
they're  dead." 

"Now,  that's  something  like.  That'll  answer. 
Why  couldn't  you  said  that  before  ?  We'll  keep  them, 
till  they're  ransomed  to  death ;  and  a  bothersome  lot 
they'll  be,  too— eating  up  everything,  and  always 
trying  to  get  loose." 

"How  you  tails:,  Ben  Rogers.  How  can  they  get 
loose  when  there's  a  guard  over  them,  ready  to  shoot 
them  down  if  they  move  a  peg?" 

"A  guard!  Well,  that  is  good.  So  somebody's 
got  to  set  up  all  night  and  never  get  any  sleep,  just  so 
as  to  watch  them.  I  think  that's  foolishness.  Why 
can't  a  body  take  a  club  and  ransom  them  as  soon  as 
they  get  here?" 

"Because  it  ain't  in  the  books  so — that's  why. 
Now,  Ben  Rogers,  do  you  want  to  do  things  regular, 
ov  don't  you?— that's  the  idea.    Don't  you  reckon 

T2 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


that  the  people  that  made  the  books  knows  what's  the 
correct  thing  to  do?  Do  you  reckon  you  can  learn 
'em  anything?  Not  by  a  good  deal.  No,  sir,  we'll 
just  go  on  and  ransom  them  in  the  regular  way." 

"All  right.  I  don't  mind;  but  I  say  it's  a  fool 
way,  anyhow.  Say,  do  we  kill  the  women,  too?" 

"Well,  Ben  Rogers,  if  I  was  as  ignorant  as  you  I 
wouldn't  let  on.  Kill  the  women?  No;  nobody  ever 
saw  anything  in  the  books  like  that.  You  fetch  them 
to  the  cave,  and  you're  always  as  polite  as  pie  to 
them;  and  by  and  by  they  fall  in  love  with  you,  and 
never  want  to  go  home  any  more." 

"Well,  if  that's  the  way  I'm  agreed,  but  I  don't 
take  no  stock  in  it.  Mighty  soon  we'll  have  the  cave 
so  cluttered  up  with  women,  and  fellows  waiting  to  be 
ransomed,  that  there  won't  be  no  place  for  the  rob- 
bers. But  go  ahead,  I  ain't  got  nothing  to  say." 

Little  Tommy  Barnes  was  asleep  now,  and  when 
they  waked  him  up  he  was  scared,  and  cried,  and  said 
he  wanted  to  go  home  to  his  ma,  and  didn't  want  to 
be  a  robber  any  more. 

So  they  all  made  fun  of  him,  and  called  him  cry- 
baby, and  that  made  him  mad,  and  he  said  he  would 
go  straight  and  tell  all  the  secrets.  But  Tom  give  him 
five  cents  to  keep  quiet,  and  said  we  would  all  go 
home  and  meet  next  week,  and  rob  somebody  and 
kill  some  people. 

Ben  Rogers  said  he  couldn't  get  out  much,  only 
Sundays,  and  so  he  wanted  to  begin  next  Sunday; 
but  all  the  boys  said  it  would  be  wicked  to  do  it  on 
Sunday,  and  that  settled  the  thing.  They  agreed  to 
get  together  and  fix  a  day  as  soon  as  they  could,  and 

13 


MARK  TWAIN 

then  we  elected  Tom  Sawyer  first  captain  and  Joe 
Harper  second  captain  of  the  Gang,  and  so  started 
home. 

I  dumb  up  the  shed  and  crept  into  my  window  just 
before  day  was  breaking.  My  new  clothes  was  all 
greased  up  and  clayey,  and  I  was  dog-tired. 


14 


CHAPTER  in 


WELL,  I  got  a  good  going-over  in  the  morning 
from  old  Miss  Watson  on  account  of  my 
clothes;  but  the  widow  she  didn't  scold,  but  only 
cleaned  off  the  grease  and  clay,  and  looked  so  sorry 
that  I  thought  I  would  behave  awhile  if  I  could. 
Then  Miss  Watson  she  took  me  in  the  closet  and 
prayed,  but  nothing  come  of  it.  She  told  me  to  pray 
every  day,  and  whatever  I  asked  for  I  would  get  it. 
But  it  warn't  so.  I  tried  it.  Once  I  got  a  fish-line, 
but  no  hooks.  It  warn't  any  good  to  me  without 
hooks.  I  tried  for  the  hooks  three  or  four  times,  but 
somehow  I  couldn't  make  it  work.  By  and  by,  one 
day,  I  asked  Miss  Watson  to  try  for  me,  but  she  said 
I  was  a  fool.  She  never  told  me  why,  and  I  couldn't 
make  it  out  no  way. 

I  set  down  one  time  back  in  the  woods,  and  had 
a  long  think  about  it.  I  says  to  myself,  if  a  body  can 
get  anything  they  pray  for,  why  don't  Deacon  Winn 
get  back  the  money  he  lost  on  pork?  Why  can't  the 
widow  get  back  her  silver  snuff-box  that  was  stole? 
Why  can't  Miss  Watson  fat  up?  No,  says  I  to  my- 
self, there  ain't  nothing  in  it.  I  went  and  told  the 
widow  about  it,  and  she  said  the  thing  a  body  could 
get  by  praying  for  it  was  "spiritual  gifts."  This  was 
too  many  for  me,  but  she  told  me  what  she  meant— I 

IS 


MARK  TWAIN 


must  help  other  people,  and  do  everything  I  could  for 
other  people,  and  look  out  for  them  all  the  time,  and 
never  think  about  myself.  This  was  including  Miss 
Watson,  as  I  took  it.  I  went  out  in  the  woods  and 
turned  it  over  in  my  mind  a  long  time,  but  I  couldn't 
see  no  advantage  about  it— except  for  the  other  peo- 
ple; so  at  last  I  reckoned  I  wouldn't  worry  about  it 
any  more,  but  just  let  it  go.  Sometimes  the  widow 
would  take  me  one  side  and  talk  about  Providence  in 
a  way  to  make  a  body's  mouth  water;  but  maybe 
next  day  Miss  Watson  would  take  hold  and  knock  it 
all  down  again.  I  judged  I  could  see  that  there  was 
two  Providences,  and  a  poor  chap  would  stand  con- 
siderable show  with  the  widow's  Providence,  but  if 
Miss  Watson's  got  him  there  warn't  no  help  for  him 
any  more.  I  thought  it  all  out,  and  reckoned  I 
would  belong  to  the  widow's  if  he  wanted  me,  though 
I  couldn't  make  out  how  he  was  a-going  to  be  any 
better  off  then  than  what  he  was  before,  seeing  I  was 
so  ignorant,  and  so  kind  of  low-down  and  ornery. 

Pap  he  hadn't  been  seen  for  more  than  a  year,  and 
that  was  comfortable  for  me ;  I  didn't  want  to  see  him 
no  more.  He  used  to  always  whale  me  when  he  was 
sober  and  could  get  his  hands  on  me;  though  I  used 
to  take  to  the  woods  most  of  the  time  when  he  was 
around.  Well,  about  this  time  he  was  found  in  the 
river  drownded,  about  twelve  mile  above  town,  so 
people  said.  They  judged  it  was  him,  anyway;  said 
this  drownded  man  was  just  his  size,  and  was  ragged, 
and  had  uncommon  long  hair,  which  was  all  like  pap; 
but  they  couldn't  make  nothing  out  of  the  face,  be- 
cause it  had  been  in  the  water  so  long  it  warn't  much 

16 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


like  a  face  at  all.  They  said  he  was  floating  on  his 
back  in  the  water.  They  took  him  and  buried  him  on 
the  bank.  But  I  warn't  comfortable  long,  because  I 
happened  to  think  of  something.  I  knowed  mighty 
well  that  a  drownded  man  don't  float  on  his  back,  but 
on  his  face.  So  I  knowed,  then,  that  this  warn't  pap, 
but  a  woman  dressed  up  in  a  man's  clothes.  So  I  was 
uncomfortable  again.  I  judged  the  old  man  would 
turn  up  again  by  and  by,  though  I  wished  he 
wouldn't. 

We  played  robber  now  and  then  about  a  month, 
and  then  I  resigned.  All  the  boys  did.  We  hadn't 
robbed  nobody,  hadn't  killed  any  people,  but  only 
just  pretended.  We  used  to  hop  out  of  the  woods 
and  go  charging  down  on  hog-drivers  and  women  in 
carts  taking  garden  stuff  to  market,  but  we  never 
hived  any  of  them.  Tom  Sawyer  called  the  hogs 
"ingots,"  and  he  called  the  turnips  and  stuff  "ju- 
lery,"  and  we  would  go  to  the  cave  and  powwow  over 
what  we  had  done,  and  how  many  people  we  had 
killed  and  marked.  But  I  couldn't  see  no  profit  in 
it.  One  time  Tom  sent  a  boy  to  run  about  town 
with  a  blazing  stick,  which  he  called  a  slogan  (which 
was  the  sign  for  the  Gang  to  get  together),  and  then 
he  said  he  had  got  secret  news  by  his  spies  that  next 
day  a  whole  parcel  of  Spanish  merchants  and  rich 
A  rabs  was  going  to  camp  in  Cave  Hollow  with  two 
hundred  elephants,  and  six  hundred  camels,  and 
over  a  thousand  "sumter"  mules,  all  loaded  down 
with  di'monds,  and  they  didn't  have  only  a  guard  of 
four  hundred  soldiers,  and  so  we  would  lay  in  am- 
buscade, as  he  called  it,  and  kill  the  lot  and  scoop 

*1 


MARK  TWAIN 

the  things.  He  said  we  must  slick  up  our  swords 
and  guns,  and  get  ready.  He  never  could  go  after 
even  a  turnip-cart  but  he  must  have  the  swords  and 
guns  all  scoured  up  for  it,  though  they  was  only  lath 
and  broomsticks,  and  you  might  scour  at  them  till  you 
rotted,  and  then  they  warn't  worth  a  mouthful  of 
ashes  more  than  what  they  was  before.  I  didn't 
believe  we  could  lick  such  a  crowd  of  Spaniards  and 
A-rabs,  but  I  wanted  to  see  the  camels  and  elephants, 
so  I  was  on  hand  next  day,  Saturday,  in  the  ambus- 
cade; and  when  we  got  the  word  we  rushed  out  of 
the  woods  and  down  the  hill.  But  there  warn't  no 
Spaniards  and  A-rabs,  and  there  warn't  no  camels 
nor  no  elephants.  It  warn't  anything  but  a  Sunday- 
school  picnic,  and  only  a  primer  class  at  that.  We 
busted  it  up,  and  chased  the  children  up  the  hollow; 
but  we  never  got  anything  but  some  doughnuts  and 
jam,  though  Ben  Rogers  got  a  rag  doll,  and  Joe 
Harper  got  a  hymn-book  and  a  tract;  and  then  the 
teacher  charged  in,  and  made  us  drop  everything  and 
cut.  I  didn't  see  no  di'monds,  and  I  told  Tom 
Sawyer  so.  He  said  there  was  loads  of  them  there, 
anyway;  and  he  said  there  was  A-rabs  there,  too, 
and  elephants  and  things.  I  said,  why  couldn't  we 
see  them,  then?  He  said  if  I  warn't  so  ignorant,  but 
had  read  a  book  called  Don  Quixote,  I  would  know 
without  asking.  He  said  it  was  all  done  by  enchant- 
ment. He  said  there  was  hundreds  of  soldiers  there, 
and  elephants  and  treasure,  and  so  on,  but  we  had 
enemies  which  he  called  magicians,  and  they  had 
turned  the  whole  thing  into  an  infant  Sunday-school, 
just  out  of  spite.    I  said,  all  right;  then  the  thing 

18 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


for  us  to  do  was  to  go  for  the  magicians.  Tom 
Sawyer  said  I  was  a  numskull. 

"Why,"  said  he,  "a  magician  could  call  up  a  lot 
of  genies,  and  they  would  hash  you  up  like  nothing 
before  you  could  say  Jack  Robinson.  They  are  as 
tall  as  a  tree  and  as  big  around  as  a  church.,, 

"Well,"  I  says,  "s'pose  we  got  some  genies  to 
help  us — can't  we  lick  the  other  crowd  then?" 

"How  you  going  to  get  them?" 

"I  don't  know.    How  do  they  get  them?" 

"Why,  they  rub  an  old  tin  lamp  or  an  iron  ring, 
and  then  the  genies  come  tearing  in,  with  the  thunder 
and  lightning  a-ripping  around  and  the  smoke 
a-rolling,  and  everything  they're  told  to  do  they  up 
and  do  it.  They  don't  think  nothing  of  pulling  a 
shot-tower  up  by  the  roots,  and  belting  a  Sunday- 
school  superintendent  over  the  head  with  it — or  any 
other  man." 

"Who  makes  them  tear  around  so?" 

"Why,  whoever  rubs  the  lamp  or  the  ring.  They 
belong  to  whoever  rubs  the  lamp  or  the  ring,  and  1 
they've  got  to  do  whatever  he  says.  If  he  tells 
them  to  build  a  palace  forty  miles  long  out  of 
di'monds,  and  fill  it  full  of  chewing-gum,  or  what- 
ever you  want,  and  fetch  an  emperor's  daughter 
from  China  for  you  to  marry,  they've  got  to  do  it 
— and  they've  got  to  do  it  before  sun-up  next  morn- 
ing, too.  And  more:  they've  got  to  waltz  that 
palace  around  over  the  country  wherever  you  want 
it,  you  understand." 

"Well,"  says  I,  "I  think  they  are  a  pack  of  fat- 
heads for  not  keeping  the  palace  themselves  'stead 

*9 


MARK  TWAIN 


of  fooling  them  away  like  that.  And  what's  more — > 
if  I  was  one  of  them  I  would  see  a  man  in  Jericho 
before  I  would  drop  my  business  and  come  to  him 
for  the  rubbing  of  an  old  tin  lamp." 

"How  you  talk,  Huck  Finn.  Why,  you'd  have  to 
come  when  he  rubbed  it,  whether  you  wanted  to 
or  not." 

"What!  and  I  as  high  as  a  tree  and  as  big  as  a 
church?  All  right,  then;  I  would  come;  but  I  lay 
I'd  make  that  man  climb  the  highest  tree  there 
was  in  the  country." 

"Shucks,  it  ain't  no  use  to  talk  to  you,  Huck  Finn. 
You  don't  seem  to  know  anything,  somehow—- 
perfect  saphead." 

I  thought  all  this  over  for  two  or  three  days,  and 
then  I  reckoned  I  would  see  if  there  was  anything 
in  it.  I  got  an  old  tin  lamp  and  an  iron  ring,  and 
went  out  in  the  woods  and  rubbed  and  rubbed  till 
I  sweat  like  an  Injun,  calculating  to  build  a  palace 
and  sell  it;  but  it  warn't  no  use,  none  of  the  genies 
come.  So  then  I  judged  that  all  that  stuff  was  only 
just  one  of  Tom  Sawyer's  lies.  I  reckoned  he 
believed  in  the  A-rabs  and  the  elephants,  but  as 
for  me  I  think  different.  It  had  all  the  marks  of  a 
Sunday-school. 


20 


CHAPTER  IV 


WELL,  three  or  four  months  run  along,  and  it 
was  well  into  the  winter  now.  I  had  been  to 
school  most  all  the  time  and  could  spell  and  read 
and  write  just  a  little,  and  could  say  the  multiplica- 
tion table  up  to  six  times  seven  is  thirty-five,  and  I 
don't  reckon  I  could  ever  get  any  further  than  that 
if  I  was  to  live  forever.  I  don't  take  no  stock  in 
mathematics,  anyway. 

At  first  I  hated  the  school,  but  by  and  by  I  got 
so  I  could  stand  it.  Whenever  I  got  uncommon 
tired  I  played  hookey,  and  the  hiding  I  got  next 
day  done  me  good  and  cheered  me  up.  So  the 
longer  I  went  to  school  the  easier  it  got  to  be.  I 
was  getting  sort  of  used  to  the  widow's  ways,  too, 
and  they  warn't  so  raspy  on  me.  Living  in  a  house 
and  sleeping  in  a  bed  pulled  on  me  pretty  tight 
mostly,  but  before  the  cold  weather  I  used  to  slide 
out  and  sleep  in  the  woods  sometimes,  and  so  that 
was  a  rest  to  me.  I  liked  the  old  ways  best,  but 
I  was  getting  so  I  liked  the  new  ones,  too,  a  little 
bit.  The  widow  said  I  was  coming  along  slow  but 
sure,  and  doing  very  satisfactory.  She  said  she 
warn't  ashamed  of  me. 

One  morning  I  happened  to  turn  over  the  salt- 
cellar at  breakfast.    I  reached  for  some  of  it  as 


MARK  TWAIN 


quick  as  I  could  to  throw  over  my  left  shoulder  and 
keep  off  the  bad  luck,  but  Miss  Watson  was  in  ahead 
of  me,  and  crossed  me  off.  She  says,  * 4  Take  your 
hands  away,  Huckleberry;  what  a  mess  you  are 
always  making!"  The  widow  put  in  a  good  word 
for  me,  but  that  warn't  going  to  keep  off  the  bad 
luck,  I  knowed  that  well  enough.  I  started  out, 
after  breakfast,  feeling  worried  and  shaky,  and 
wondering  where  it  was  going  to  fall  on  me,  and 
what  it  was  going  to  be.  There  is  ways  to  keep  off 
some  kinds  of  bad  luck,  but  this  wasn't  one  of  them 
kind ;  so  I  never  tried  to  do  anything,  but  just  poked 
along  low-spirited  and  on  the  watch-out. 

I  went  down  to  the  front  garden  and  dumb  over 
the  stile  where  you  go  through  the  high  board  fence. 
There  was  an  inch  of  new  snow  on  the  ground,  and 
I  seen  somebody's  tracks.  They  had  come  up  from 
the  quarry  and  stood  around  the  stile  awhile,  and 
then  went  on  around  the  garden  fence.  It  was 
funny  they  hadn't  come  in,  after  standing  around 
so.  I  couldn't  make  it  out.  It  was  very  curious, 
somehow.  I  was  going  to  follow  around,  but  I 
stooped  down  to  look  at  the  tracks  first.  I  didn't 
notice  anything  at  first,  but  next  I  did.  There  was 
a  cross  in  the  left  boot-heel  made  with  big  nails,  to 
keep  off  the  devil. 

I  was  up  in  a  second  and  shinning  down  the  hill. 
I  looked  over  my  shoulder  every  now  and  then, 
but  I  didn't  see  nobody.  I  was  at  Judge  Thatcher's 
as  quick  as  I  could  get  there.    He  said: 

"Why,  my  boy,  you  are  all  out  of  breath.  Did 
you  come  for  your  interest?" 

22 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"No,  sir,"  I  says;  "is  there  some  for  me?" 

"Oh,  yes,  a  half-yearly  is  in  last  night — over  a 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Quite  a  fortune  for  you. 
You  had  better  let  me  invest  it  along  with  your 
six  thousand,  because  if  you  take  it  you'll  spend  it." 

"No,  sir,"  I  says,  "I  don't  want  to  spend  it.  I 
don't  want  it  at  all — nor  the  six  thousand,  nuther. 
I  want  you  to  take  it ;  I  want  to  give  it  to  you — the 
six  thousand  and  all."  • 

He  looked  surprised.  He  couldn't  seem  to  make 
it  out.    He  says: 

"Why,  what  can  you  mean,  my  boy?" 

I  says,  "Don't  you  ask  me  no  questions  about 
it,  please.    You'll  take  it— won't  you?" 

He  says : 

"Well,  I'm  puzzled.    Is  something  the  matter?" 

"Please  take  it,"  says  I,  "and  don't  ask  me  noth- 
ing— then  I  won't  have  to  tell  no  lies." 

He  studied  awhile,  and  then  he  says: 

"Oho-o!  I  think  I  see.  You  want  to  sell  all 
your  property  to  me — not  give  it.  That's  the 
correct  idea." 

Then  he  wrote  something  on  a  paper  and  read 
it  over,  and  says: 

"There;  you  see  it  says  'for  a  consideration.' 
That  means  I  have  bought  it  of  you  and  paid  you 
for  it.    Here's  a  dollar  for  you.    Now  you  sign  it." 

So  I  signed  it,  and  left. 

Miss  Watson's  nigger,  Jim,  had  a  hair-ball  as  big 
as  your  first,  which  had  been  took  out  of  the  fourth 
stomach  of  an  ox,  and  he  used  to  do  magic  with  it. 
He  said  there  was  a  spirit  inside  of  it,  and  it  knowed 

23 


MARK  TWAIN 


everything.  So  I  went  to  him  that  night  and  told 
him  pap  was  here  again,  for  I  found  his  tracks  in  the 
snow.  What  I  wanted  to  know  was,  what  he  was 
going  to  do,  and  was  he  going  to  stay?  Jim  got  out 
his  hair -ball  and  said  something  over  it,  and  then 
he  held  it  up  and  dropped  it  on  the  floor.  It  fell 
pretty  solid,  and  only  rolled  about  an  inch.  Jim 
tried  it  again,  and  then  another  time,  and  it  acted 
just  the  same.  Jim  got  down  on  his  knees,  and  put 
his  ear  against  it  and  listened,  But  it  warn't  no 
use;  he  said  it  wouldn't  talk.  He  said  sometimes  it 
wouldn't  talk  without  money.  1  told  him  I  had  an 
old  slick  counterfeit  quarter  that  warn't  no  good 
because  the  brass  showed  through  the  silver  a  little, 
and  it  wouldn't  pass  nohow,  even  if  the  brass  didn't 
show,  because  it  was  so  slick  it  felt  greasy,  and  so 
that  would  tell  on  it  every  time.  (I  reckoned  I 
wouldn't  say  nothing  about  the  dollar  I  got  from  the 
judge.)  I  said  it  was  pretty  bad  money,  but  maybe 
the  hair-ball  would  take  it,  because  maybe  it  wouldn't 
know  the  difference.  Jim  smelt  it  and  bit  it  and 
rubbed  it,  and  said  he  would  manage  so  the  hair- 
ball  would  think  it  was  good.  He  said  he  would 
split  open  a  raw  Irish  potato  and  stick  the  quarter 
in  between  and  keep  it  there  all  night,  and  next 
morning  you  couldn't  see  no  brass,  and  it  wouldn't 
feel  greasy  no  more,  and  so  anybody  in  town  would 
take  it  in  a  minute,  let  alone  a  hair-ball.  Well, 
I  knowed  a  potato  would  do  that  before,  but  I  had 
forgot  it. 

Jim  put  the  quarter  under  the  hair-ball,  and  got 
down  and  listened  again.   This  time  he  said  the 

24 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


hair-ball  was  all  right.  He  said  it  would  tell  my 
whole  fortune  if  I  wanted  it  to.  I  says,  go  on.  So 
the  hair-ball  talked  to  Jim,  and  Jim  told  it  to  me. 
He  says: 

"  Yo'  ole  father  doan'  know  yit  what  he's  a-gwyne 
to  do.  Sometimes  he  spec  he'll  go  'way,  en  den 
ag'in  he  spec  he'll  stay.  De  bes'  way  is  to  res'  easy 
en  let  de  ole  man  take  his  own  way.  Dey's  two 
angels  ho  verm'  roun'  'bout  him.  One  uv  'em  is 
white  en  shiny,  en  t'other  one  is  black.  De  white 
one  gits  him  to  go  right  a  little  while,  den  de  black 
one  sail  in  en  bust  it  all  up.  A  body  can't  tell  yit 
which  one  gwyne  to  fetch  him  at  de  las'.  But  you 
is  all  right.  You  gwyne  to  have  considable  trouble 
in  yo'  life,  en  considable  joy.  Sometimes  you  gwyne 
to  git  hurt,  en  sometimes  you  gwyne  to  git  sick; 
but  every  time  you's  gwyne  to  git  well  ag'in.  Dey's 
two  gals  flyin'  'bout  you  in  yo'  life.  One  uv  'em's 
light  en  t'other  one  is  dark.  One  is  rich  en  t'other 
is  po\  You's  gwyne  to  marry  de  po'  one  fust  en 
de  rich  one  by  en  by.  You  wants  to  keep  'way 
fum  de  water  as  much  as  you  kin,  en  don't  run  no 
resk,  'kase  it's  down  in  de  bills  dat  you's  gwyne  to 
git  hung." 

When  I  lit  my  candle  and  went  up  to  my  room 
that  night  there  sat  pap— his  own  self! 


25 


CHAPTER  V 


I HAD  shut  the  door  to.  Then  I  turned  arotmd, 
and  there  he  was.  I  used  to  be  scared  of  him 
all  the  time,  he  tanned  me  so  much.  I  reckoned  I 
was  scared  now,  too;  but  in  a  minute  I  see  I  was 
mistaken — that  is,  after  the  first  jolt,  as  you  may 
say,  when  my  breath  sort  of  hitched,  he  being  so 
unexpected;  but  right  away  after  I  see  I  warn't 
scared  of  him  worth  bothring  about. 

He  was  most  fifty,  and  he  looked  it.  His  hair  was 
long  and  tangled  and  greasy,  and  hung  down,  and 
you  could  see  his  eyes  shining  through  like  he  was 
behind  vines.  It  was  all  black,  no  gray;  so  was  his 
long,  mixed-up  whiskers.  There  warn't  no  color  in 
his  face,  where  his  face  showed;  it  was  white;  not 
like  another  man's  white,  but  a  white  to  make  a 
body  sick,  a  white  to  make  a  body's  flesh  crawl — a 
tree-toad  white,  a  fish-belly  white.  As  for  his  clothes 
— just  rags,  that  was  all.  He  had  one  ankle  resting 
on  t'other  knee;  the  boot  on  that  foot  was  busted, 
and  two  of  his  toes  stuck  through,  and  he  worked 
them  now  and  then.  His  hat  was  laying  on  the  floor 
■ — an  old  black  slouch  with  the  top  caved  in,  like  a  lid. 

I  stood  a-looking  at  him;  he  set  there  a-looking 
at  me,  with  his  chair  tilted  back  a  little.  I  set  the 
candle  down,  - X  noticed  the  window  was  up;  so  he 

M.T.-3-1 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


had  dumb  in  by  the  shed.  He  kept  a-looking  me 
all  over.    By  and  by  he  says: 

' '  Starchy  clothes — very.  You  think  you're  a  good 
deal  of  a  big-bug,  don't  you?" 

"  Maybe  I  am,  maybe  I  ain't,"  I  says. 

"Don't  you  give  me  none  o'  your  lip,"  says  he. 
"You've  put  on  considerable  many  frills  since  I  been 
away.  I'll  take  you  down  a  peg  before  I  get  done 
with  you.  You're  educated,  too,  they  say — can  read 
and  write.  You  think  you're  better'n  your  father, 
now,  don't  you,  because  he  can't  ?  Til  take  it  out  of 
you.  Who  told  you  you  might  meddle  with  such 
hifalut'n  foolishness,  hey? — who  told  you  you  could?" 

"The  widow.   She  told  me." 

"The  widow,  hey? — and  who  told  the  widow  she 
could  put  in  her  shovel  about  a  thing  that  ain't  none 
of  her  business?" 

"Nobody  never  told  her." 

"Well,  I'll  learn  her  how  to  meddle.  And  looky 
here — you  drop  that  school,  you  hear?  I'll  learn 
people  to  bring  up  a  boy  to  put  on  airs  over  his  own 
father  and  let  on  to  be  better'n  what  he  is.  You 
lemme  catch  you  fooling  around  that  school  again, 
you  hear?  Your  mother  couldn't  read,  and  she 
couldn't  write,  nuther,  before  she  died.  None  of  the 
family  couldn't  before  they  died.  I  can't;  and  here 
you're  a-swelling  yourself  up  like  this.  I  ain't  the  man 
to  stand  it — you  hear?  Say,  lemme  hear  you  read." 

I  took  up  a  book  and  begun  something  about  Gen- 
eral Washington  and  the  wars.  When  I'd  read  about 
a  half  a  minute,  he  fetched  the  book  a  whack  with  his 
hand  and  knocked  it  across  the  house.  Ha  says: 

M  M.T.-3-2 


MARK  TWAIN 


4  4 It's  so.  You  can  do  it.  I  had  my  doubts  when 
you  told  me.  Now  looky  here;  you  stop  that  putting 
on  frills.  I  won't  have  it.  I'll  lay  for  you,  my 
smarty;  and  if  I  catch  you  about  that  school  I'll  tan 
you  good.  First  you  know  you'll  get  religion,  too.  I 
never  see  such  a  son." 

He  took  up  a  little  blue  and  yaller  picture  of  some 
cows  and  a  boy,  and  says : 
:     "What's  this?" 

"It's  something  they  give  me  for  learning  my 
lessons  good." 

He  tore  it  up,  and  says : 

"I'll  give  you  something  better— I'll  give  you  a 
cowhide." 

He  set  there  a-mumbling  and  a-growling  a  minute, 
and  then  he  says: 

"Ain't  you  a  sweet-scented  dandy,  though?  A 
bed;  and  bedclothes ;  and  a  look 'n' -glass;  and  a  piece 
of  carpet  on  the  floor— and  your  own  father  got  to 
sleep  with  the  hogs  in  the  tanyard.  I  never  see  such  a 
son.  I  bet  I'll  take  some  o'  these  frills  out  o'  you 
before  I'm  done  with  you.  Why,  there  ain't  no  end  to 
your  airs-— they  say  you're  rich.  Hey  ? — how's  that  ?" 

"They  lie— that's  how." 

"Looky  here — mind  how  you  talk  to  me;  I'm 
a-standing  about  all  I  can  stand  now — so  don't  gimme 
no  sass.  I've  been  in  town  two  days,  and  I  hain't 
heard  nothing  but  about  you  bein'  rich.  I  heard 
about  it  away  down  the  river,  too.  That's  why  I 
come.  You  git  me  that  money  to-morrow— I  want 
it." 

"lI  hain't  got  no  money." 

28 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

"It's  a  lie.  Judge  Thatcher's  got  it.  You  git  it. 
(want  it." 

"I  hain't  got  no  money,  I  tell  you.  You  ask  Judge 
Thatcher;  he'll  tell  you  the  same." 

' 1  All  right.  I'll  ask  him ;  and  I'll  make  him  pungle, 
too,  or  I'll  know  the  reason  why.  Say,  how  much 
you  got  in  your  pocket?   I  want  it." 

"I  hain't  got  only  a  dollar,  and  I  want  that  to—" 

"It  don't  make  no  difference  what  you  want  it  for 
—you  just  shell  it  out." 

He  took  it  and  bit  it  to  see  if  it  was  good,  and  then 
he  said  he  was  going  down- town  to  get  some  whisky; 
said  he  hadn't  had  a  drink  all  day.  When  he  had  got 
out  on  the  shed  he  put  his  head  in  again,  and  cussed 
me  for  putting  on  frills  and  trying  to  be  better  than 
him;  and  when  I  reckoned  he  was  gone  he  come  back 
and  put  his  head  in  again,  and  told  me  to  mind  about 
that  school,  because  he  was  going  to  lay  for  me  and 
lick  me  if  I  didn't  drop  that, 

Next  day  he  was  drunk,  and  he  went  to  Judge 
Thatcher's  and  bullyragged  him,  and  tried  to  make 
him  give  up  the  money;  but  he  couldn't,  and  then  he 
swore  he'd  make  the  law  force  him. 

The  judge  and  the  widow  went  to  law  to  get  the 
court  to  take  me  away  from  him  and  let  one  of  them 
be  my  guardian ;  but  it  was  a  new  judge  that  had  just 
come,  and  he  didn't  know  the  old  man;  so  he  said 
courts  mustn't  interfere  and  separate  families  if  they 
could  help  it ;  said  he'd  druther  not  take  a  child  away 
from  its  father.  So  Judge  Thatcher  and  the  widow 
bad  to  quit  on  the  business. 

That  pleased  the  old  man  till  he  couldn't  rest,  He 

29 


MARK  TWAIN 


said  he'd  cowhide  me  till  I  was  black  and  blue  if  I 
didn't  raise  some  money  for  him.  I  borrowed  three 
dollars  from  Judge  Thatcher,  and  pap  took  it  and  got 
drunk,  and  went  a-blowing  around  and  cussing  and 
whooping  and  carrying  on ;  and  he  kept  it  up  all  over 
town,  with  a  tin  pan,  till  most  midnight;  then  they 
jailed  him,  and  next  day  they  had  him  before  court, 
and  jailed  him  again  for  a  weeko  But  he  said  he  was 
satisfied;  said  he  was  boss  of  his  son,  and  he'd  make 
it  warm  for  him. 

*  When  he  got  out  the  new  judge  said  he  was  a-going 
to  make  a  man  of  him.  So  he  took  him  to  his  own 
house,  and  dressed  him  up  clean  and  nice,  and  had 
him  to  breakfast  and  dinner  and  supper  with  the 
family,  and  was  just  old  pie  to  him,  so  to  speak.  And 
after  supper  he  talked  to  him  about  temperance  and 
such  things  till  the  old  man  cried,  and  said  he'd  been 
a  fool,  and  fooled  away  his  life;  but  now  he  was 
a-going  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf  and  be  a  man  nobody 
wouldn't  be  ashamed  of,  and  he  hoped  the  judge 
would  help  him  and  not  look  down  on  him.  The 
judge  said  he  could  hug  him  for  them  words;  so  he 
,  cried,  and  his  wife  she  cried  again;  pap  said  he'd  been 
a  man  that  had  always  been  misunderstood  before, 
and  the  judge  said  he  believed  it.  The  old  man  said 
that  what  a  man  wanted  that  was  down  was  sym- 
pathy, and  the  judge  said  it  was  so;  so  they  cried 
again.  And  when  it  was  bedtime  the  old  man  rose 
up  and  held  out  his  hand,  and  says: 

"Look  at  it,  gentlemen  and  ladies  all;  take  a-hold 
of  it;  shake  it.  There's  a  hand  that  was  the  hand  of 
a  hog;  but  it  ain't  so  no  more;  it's  the  hand  of  a  man 

?o 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


that's  started  in  on  a  new  life,  and  '11  die  before  he'll 
go  back.  You  mark  them  words — don't  forget  I  said 
them.  It's  a  clean  hand  now;  shake  it — don't  be 
afeard." 

So  they  shook  it,  one  after  the  other,  all  around, 
and  cried.  The  judge's  wife  she  kissed  it.  Then  the 
old  man  he  signed  a  pledge— made  his  mark.  The 
judge  said  it  was  the  holiest  time  on  record,  or  some- 
thing like  that.  Then  they  tucked  the  old  man  into 
a  beautiful  room,  which  was  the  spare  room,  and  in 
the  night  some  time  he  got  powerful  thirsty  and 
dumb  out  on  to  the  porch-roof  and  slid  down  a 
stanchion  and  traded  his  new  coat  for  a  jug  of  forty- 
rod,  and  dumb  back  again  and  had  a  good  old  time;, 
and  toward  daylight  he  crawled  out  again,  drunk  as 
a  fiddler,  and  rolled  off  the  porch  and  broke  his  left 
arm  in  two  places,  and  was  most  froze  to  death  when' 
somebody  found  him  after  sun-up.  And  when  they 
come  to  look  at  that  spare  room  they  had  to  take 
soundings  before  they  could  navigate  it. 

The  judge  he  felt  kind  of  sore.  He  said  he  reckoned 
a  body  could  reform  the  old  man  with  a  shotgun, 
maybe,  but  he  didn't  know  no  other  way* 


3i 


CHAPTER  VI 


WELL,  pretty  soon  the  old  man  was  up  and 
around  again,  and  then  he  went  for  Judge 
Thatcher  in  the  courts  to  make  him  give  up  that 
money,  and  he  went  for  me,  too,  for  not  stopping 
school.  He  catched  me  a  couple  of  times  and 
thrashed  me,  but  I  went  to  school  just  the  same,  and 
dodged  him  or  outrun  him  most  of  the  time.  I 
didn't  want  to  go  to  school  much  before,  but  I 
reckoned  I'd  go  now  to  spite  pap.  That  law  trial 
was  a  slow  business— appeared  like  they  warn't  ever 
going  to  get  started  on  it;  so  every  now  and  then 
I'd  borrow  two  or  three  dollars  off  of  the  judge  for 
him,  to  keep  from  getting  a  cowhiding.  Every  time 
he  got  money  he  got  drunk;  and  every  time  he  got 
drunk  he  raised  Cain  around  town;  and  every  time 
he  raised  Cain  he  got  jailed.  He  was  just  suited — 
this  kind  of  thing  was  right  in  his  line. 

He  got  to  hanging  around  the  widow's  too  much, 
and  so  she  told  him  at  last  that  if  he  didn't  quit  using 
around  there  she  would  make  trouble  for  him.  Well, 
wasn't  he  mad?  He  said  he  would  show  who  was 
Huck  Finn's  boss.  So  he  watched  out  for  me  one  day 
in  the  spring,  and  catched  me,  and  took  me  up  the 
river  about  three  mile  in  a  skiff,  and  crossed  over  to 
the  Illinois  shore  where  it  was  woody  and  there  warn't 

32 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


no  houses  but  an  old  log  hut  in  a  place  where  the 
timber  was  so  thick  you  couldn't  find  it  if  you  didn't 
know  where  it  was. 

He  kept  me  with  him  all  the  time,  and  I  never  got  a 
chance  to  run  off.  We  lived  in  that  old  cabin,  and  he 
always  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key  under  his 
head  nights.  He  had  a  gun  which  he  had  stole,  I 
reckon,  and  we  fished  and  hunted,  and  that  was  what 
we  lived  on.  Every  little  while  he  locked  me  in  and 
went  down  to  the  store,  three  miles,  to  the  ferry,  and 
traded  fish  and  game  for  whisky,  and  fetched  it  home 
and  got  drunk  and  had  a  good  time,  and  licked  me. 
The  widow  she  found  out  where  I  was  by  and  by,  and 
she  sent  a  man  over  to  try  to  get  hold  of  me;  but  pap 
drove  him  off  with  the  gun,  and  it  warn't  long  after 
that  till  I  was  used  to  being  where  I  was,  and  liked 
it — all  but  the  cowhide  part. 

It  was  kind  of  lazy  and  jolly,  laying  off  comfort- 
able all  day,  smoking  and  fishing,  and  no  books  nor 
study.  Two  months  or  more  run  along,  and  my 
clothes  got  to  be  all  rags  and  dirt,  and  I  didn't  see 
how  I'd  ever  got  to  like  it  so  well  at  the  widow's, 
where  you  had  to  wash,  and  eat  on  a  plate,  and  comb 
up,  and  go  to  bed  and  get  up  regular,  and  be  forever 
bothering  over  a  book,  and  have  old  Miss  Watson 
pecking  at  you  all  the  time.  I  didn't  want  to  go 
back  no  more.  I  had  stopped  cussing,  because  the 
widow  didn't  like  it;  but  now  I  took  to  it  again 
because  pap  hadn't  no  objections.  It  was  pretty 
good  times  up  in  the  woods  there,  take  it  all  around. 

But  by  and  by  pap  got  too  handy  with  his  hick'ry, 
and  I  couldn't  stand  it.   I  was  all  over  welts.  He 

33 


MARK  TWAIN 


got  to  going  away  so  much,  too,  and  locking  me  in. 
Once  he  locked  me  in  and  was  gone  three  days.  It 
was  dreadful  lonesome.  I  judged  he  had  got 
drownded,  and  I  wasn't  ever  going  to  get  out  any 
more.  I  was  scared.  I  made  up  my  mind  I  would 
fix  up  some  way  to  leave  there.  I  had  tried  to  get 
out  of  that  cabin  many  a  time,  but  I  couldn't  find 
no  way.  There  warn't  a  window  to  it  big  enough 
for  a  dog  to  get  through.  I  couldn't  get  up  the 
chimbly;  it  was  too  narrow.  The  door  was  thick, 
solid  oak  slabs.  Pap  was  pretty  careful  not  to  leave 
a  knife  or  anything  in  the  cabin  when  he  was  away; 
I  reckon  I  had  hunted  the  place  over  as  much  as  a 
hundred  times;  well,  I  was  most  all  the  time  at  it, 
because  it  was  about  the  only  way  to  put  in  the  time. 
But  this  time  I  found  something  at  last;  I  found  an 
old  rusty  wood-saw  without  any  handle;  it  was  laid 
in  between  a  rafter  and  the  clapboards  of  the  roof. 
I  greased  it  up  and  went  to  work.  There  was  an  old 
horse-blanket  nailed  against  the  logs  at  the  far  end 
of  the  cabin  behind  the  table,  to  keep  the  wind 
from  blowing  through  the  chinks  and  putting  the 
candle  out.  I  got  under  the  table  and  raised  the 
blanket,  and  went  to  work  to  saw  a  section  of  the 
big  bottom  log  out — big  enough  to  let  me  through. 
Well,  it  was  a  good  long  job,  but  I  was  getting 
toward  the  end  of  it  when  I  heard  pap's  gun  in  the 
woods.  I  got  rid  of  the  signs  of  my  work,  and 
dropped  the  blanket  and  hid  my  saw,  and  pretty 
soon  pap  come  in. 

Pap  warn't  in  a  good  humor — so  he  was  his  natural 
self.    He  said  he  was  down-town,  and  everything  was 

34 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

going  wrong.  His  lawyer  said  he  reckoned  he  would 
win  his  lawsuit  and  get  the  money  if  they  ever  got 
started  on  the  trial ;  but  then  there  was  ways  to  put  it 
off  a  long  time,  and  Judge  Thatcher  knowed  how  to 
do  it.  And  he  said  people  allowed  there'd  be  another 
trial  to  get  me  away  from  him  and  give  me  to  the 
widow  for  my  guardian,  and  they  guessed  it  would 
win  this  time.  This  shook  me  up  considerable,  be- 
cause I  didn't  want  to  go  back  to  the  widow's  any 
more  and  be  so  cramped  up  and  sivilized,  as  they 
called  it.  Then  the  old  man  got  to  cussing,  and 
cussed  everything  and  everybody  he  could  think  of, 
and  then  cussed  them  all  over  again  to  make  sure  he 
hadn't  skipped  any,  and  after  that  he  polished  off 
with  a  kind  of  a  general  cuss  all  round,  including  a 
considerable  parcel  of  people  which  he  didn't  know 
the  names  of,  and  so  called  them  what's-his-name 
when  he  got  to  them,  and  went  right  along  with  his 
cussing. 

He  said  he  would  like  to  see  the  widow  get  me. 
He  said  he  would  watch  out,  and  if  they  tried  to 
come  any  such  game  on  him  he  knowed  of  a  place 
six  or  seven  mile  off  to  stow  me  in,  where  they  might 
hunt  till  they  dropped  and  they  couldn't  find  me. 
That  made  me  pretty  uneasy  again,  but  only  for  a 
minute;  I  reckoned  I  wouldn't  stay  on  hand  till  he 
got  that  chance. 

The  old  man  made  me  go  to  the  skiff  and  fetch 
the  things  he  had  got.  There  was  a  fifty-pound  sack 
of  corn  meal,  and  a  side  of  bacon,  ammunition,  and 
a  four-gallon  jug  of  whisky,  and  an  old  book  and 
two  newspapers  for  wadding,  besides  some  tow*  I 

35 


MARK  TWAIN 


toted  up  a  load,  and  went  back  and  set  down  on  the 
bow  of  the  skiff  to  rest.  I  thought  it  all  over,  and 
I  reckoned  I  would  walk  off  with  the  gun  and  soma 
lines,  and  take  to  the  woods  when  I  run  away.  I 
guessed  I  wouldn't  stay  in  one  place,  but  just  tramp 
right  across  the  country,  mostly  night-times,  and 
hunt  and  fish  to  keep  alive,  and  so  get  so  far  away 
that  the  old  man  nor  the  widow  couldn't  ever  find 
me  any  more.  I  judged  I  would  saw  out  and  leave 
that  night  if  pap  got  drunk  enough,  and  I  reckoned 
he  would.  I  got  so  full  of  it  I  didn't  notice  how 
long  I  was  staying  till  the  old  man  hollered  and  asked 
me  whether  I  was  asleep  or  drownded. 

I  got  the  things  all  up  to  the  cabin,  and  then  it 
was  about  dark.  While  I  was  cooking  supper  the 
old  man  took  a  swig  or  two  and  got  sort  of  warmed 
up,  and  went  to  ripping  again.  He  had  been  drunk 
over  in  town,  and  laid  in  the  gutter  all  night,  and 
he  was  a  sight  to  look  at.  A  body  would  'a'  thought 
he  was  Adam— he  was  just  all  mud.  Whenever  his 
liquor  begun  to  work  he  most  always  went  for  the 
govment.    This  time  he  says: 

"Call  this  a  govment!  why,  just  look  at  it  and 
see  what  it's  like.  Here's  the  law  a-standing  ready 
to  take  a  man's  son  away  from  him — a  man's  own 
son,  which  he  has  had  all  the  trouble  and  all  the 
anxiety  and  all  the  expense  of  raising.  Yes,  just  as 
that  man  has  got  that  son  raised  at  last,  and  ready 
to  go  to  work  and  begin  to  do  suthin'  for  him  and 
give  him  a  rest,  the  law  up  and  goes  for  him.  And 
they  call  that  govment!  That  ain't  all,  nuther. 
The  law  backs  that  old  Judge  Thatcher  up  and  helps 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


him  to  keep  me  out  o'  my  property.  Here's  what 
the  law  does:  The  law  takes  a  man  worth  six  thou- 
sand dollars  and  up'ards,  and  jams  him  into  an  old 
trap  of  a  cabin  like  this,  and  lets  him'  go  round  in 
clothes  that  ain't  fitten  for  a  hog.  They  call  that 
govment!  A  man  can't  get  his  rights  in  a  govment 
like  this.  Sometimes  I've  a  mighty  notion  to  just 
leave  the  country  for  good  and  all.  Yes,  and  I  told 
'em  so;  I  told  old  Thatcher  so  to  his  face.  Lots  of 
'em  heard  me,  and  can  tell  what  I  said.  Says  I, 
for  two  cents  I'd  leave  the  blamed  country  and  never 
come  a-near  it  ag'in.  Them's  the  very  words.  I 
says,  look  at  my  hat — if  you  call  it  a  hat — but  the 
lid  raises  up  and  the  rest  of  it  goes  down  till  it's 
below  my  chin,  and  then  it  ain't  rightly  a  hat  at 
all,  but  more  like  my  head  was  shoved  up  through 
a  jint  o'  stove-pipe.  Look  at  it,  says  I — such  a  hat 
for  me  to  wear — one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  this 
town  if  I  could  git  my  rights. 

"Oh,  yes,  this  is  a  wonderful  govment,  wonderful. 
Why,  looky  here.  There  was  a  free  nigger  there  from 
Ohio— a  mulatter,  most  as  white  as  a  white  man. 
He  had  the  whitest  shirt  on  you  ever  see,  too,  and 
the  shiniest  hat;  and  there  ain't  a  man  in  that  town 
that's  got  as  fine  clothes  as  what  he  had;  and  he  had 
a  gold  watch  and  chain,  and  a  silver-headed  cane — 
the  awfulest  old  gray-headed  nabob  in  the  state. 
And  what  do  you  think  ?  They  said  he  was  a  p'fessor 
in  a  college,  and  could  talk  all  kinds  of  languages, 
and  knowed  everything.  And  that  ain't  the  wust. 
They  said  he  could  vote  when  he  was  at  home.  Well, 
that  let  me  out.    Thinks  I,  what  is  the  country 

37 


MARK  TWAIN 

a-coming  to?  It  was  'lection  day,  and  I  was  just 
about  to  go  and  vote  myself  if  I  warn't  too  drunk 
to  get  there;  but  when  they  told  me  there  was  a 
state  in  this  country  where  they'd  let  that  nigger 
vote,  I  drawed  out.  I  says  I'll  never  vote  ag'in. 
Them's  the  very  words  I  said;  they  all  heard  me; 
and  the  country  may  rot  for  all  me — I'll  never  vote 
ag'in  as  long  as  I  live.  And  to  see  the  cool  way  of 
that  nigger — why,  he  wouldn't  'a'  give  me  the  road 
if  I  hadn't  shoved  him  out  o'  the  way.  I  says  to 
the  people,  why  ain't  this  nigger  put  up  at  auction 
and  sold? — that's  what  I  want  to  know.  And  what 
do  you  reckon  they  said?  Why,  they  said  he 
couldn't  be  sold  till  he'd  been  in  the  state  six  months, 
and  he  hadn't  been  there  that  long  yet.  There,  now 
— that's  a  specimen.  They  call  that  a  govment  that 
can't  sell  a  free  nigger  till  he's  been  in  the  state  six 
months.  Here's  a  govment  that  calls  itself  a  gov- 
ment, and  lets  on  to  be  a  govment,  and  thinks  it  is 
a  govment,  and  yet's  got  to  set  stock-still  for  six 
whole  months  before  it  can  take  a-hold  of  a  prowling, 
thieving,  infernal,  white-shir  ted  free  nigger,  and — " 
Pap  was  a-going  on  so  he  never  noticed  where  his 
old  limber  legs  was  taking  him  to,  so  he  went  head 
over  heels  over  the  tub  of  salt  pork  and  barked  both 
shins,  and  the  rest  of  his  speech  was  all  the  hottest 
kind  of  language — mostly  hove  at  the  nigger  and  the 
govment,  though  he  give  the  tub  some,  too,  all  along, 
here  and  there.  He  hopped  around  the  cabin  con- 
siderable, first  on  one  leg  and  then  on  the  other, 
holding  first  one  shin  and  then  the  other  one,  and  at 
last  he  let  out  with  his  left  foot  all  of  a  sudden  and 

38 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


fetched  the  tub  a  rattling  kick.  But  it  warn't  good 
judgment,  because  that  was  the  boot  that  had  a 
couple  of  his  toes  leaking  out  of  the  front  end  of  it ; 
so  now  he  raised  a  howl  that  fairly  made  a  body's 
hair  raise,  and  down  he  went  in  the  dirt,  and  rolled 
there,  and  held  his  toes;  and  the  cussing  he  done 
then  laid  over  anything  he  had  ever  done  previous. 
He  said  so  his  own  self  afterwards.  He  had  heard 
old  Sowberry  Hagan  in  his  best  days,  and  he  said  it 
laid  over  him,  too;  but  I  reckon  that  was  sort  of 
piling  it  on,  maybe. 

After  supper  pap  took  the  jug,  and  said  he  had 
enough  whisky  there  for  two  drunks  and  one  de- 
lirium tremens.  That  was  always  his  word.  I 
judged  he  would  be  blind  drunk  in  about  an  hour, 
and  then  I  would  steal  the  key,  or  saw  myself  out, 
one  or  t'other.  He  drank  and  drank,  and  tumbled 
down  on  his  blankets  by  and  by;  but  luck  didn't  run 
my  way.  He  didn't  go  sound  asleep,  but  was  un- 
easy. He  groaned  and  moaned  and  thrashed  around 
this  way  and  that  for  a  long  time.  At  last  I  got  so 
sleepy  I  couldn't  keep  my  eyes  open  all  I  could  do, 
and  so  before  I  knowed  what  I  was  about  I  was 
sound  asleep,  and  the  candle  burning. 

I  don't  know  how  long  I  was  asleep,  but  all  of  a 
sudden  there  was  an  awful  scream  and  I  was  up. 
There  was  pap  looking  wild,  and  skipping  around 
every  which  way  and  yelling  about  snakes.  He  said 
they  was  crawling  up  his  legs;  and  then  he  would 
give  a  jump  and  scream,  and  say  one  had  bit  him 
on  the  cheek — but  I  couldn't  see  no  snakes.  He 
started  and  run  round  and  round  the  cabin,  holler* 

39 


MARK  TWAIN 

ing  "Take  him  off!  take  him  off!  he's  biting  me  on 
the  neck!"  I  never  see  a  man  look  so  wild  in  the 
eyes.  Pretty  soon  he  was  all  fagged  out,  and  fell 
down  panting;  then  he  rolled  over  and  over  won- 
derful fast,  kicking  things  every  which  way,  and 
striking  and  grabbing  at  the  air  with  his  hands,  and 
screaming  and  saying  there  was  devils  a-hold  of  him. 
He  wore  out  by  and  by,  and  laid  still  awhile,  moan- 
ing. Then  he  laid  stiller,  and  didn't  make  a  sound. 
I  could  hear  the  owls  and  the  wolves  away  off  in 
the  woods,  and  it  seemed  terrible  still.  He  was 
laying  over  by  the  corner.  By  and  by  he  raised  up 
part  way  and  listened,  with  his  head  to  one  side. 
He  says,  very  low: 

"Tramp— tramp— tramp;  that's  the  dead;  tramp 
—tramp — tramp;  they're  coming  after  me;  but  I 
won't  go.  Oh,  they're  here!  don't  touch  me — don't! 
hands  off— they're  cold;  let  go.  Oh,  let  a  poor  devil 
alone!" 

Then  he  went  down  on  all  fours  and  crawled  off, 
begging  them  to  let  him  alone,  and  he  rolled  himself 
up  in  his  blanket  and  wallowed  in  under  the  old  pine 
table,  still  a-begging;  and  then  he  went  to  crying. 
I  could  hear  him  through  the  blanket. 

By  and  by  he  rolled  out  and  jumped  up  on  his 
feet  looking  wild,  and  he  see  me  and  went  for  me. 
He  chased  me  round  and  round  the  place  with  a 
clasp-knife,  calling  me  the  Angel  of  Death,  and  saying 
he  would  kill  me,  and  then  I  couldn't  come  for  him 
no  more.  I  begged,  and  told  him  I  was  only  Huck; 
but  he  laughed  such  a  screechy  laugh,  and  roared  and 
cussed,  and  kept  on  chasing  me  up.    Once  when  I 

40 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

turned  short  and  dodged  under  his  arm  he  made  a 
grab  and  got  me  by  the  jacket  between  my  shoulders, 
and  I  thought  I  was  gone;  but  I  slid  out  of  the  jacket 
quick  as  lightning,  and  saved  myself.  Pretty  soon 
he  was  all  tired  out,  and  dropped  down  with  his  back 
against  the  door,  and  said  he  would  rest  a  minute 
and  then  kill  me.  He  put  his  knife  under  him,  and 
said  he  would  sleep  and  get  strong,  and  then  he 
would  see  who  was  who. 

So  he  dozed  off  pretty  soon.  By  and  by  I  got  the 
old  split-bottom  chair  and  dumb  up  as  easy  as  I 
could,  not  to  make  any  noise,  and  got  down  the  gun. 
I  slipped  the  ramrod  down  it  to  make  sure  it  was 
loadedv  and  then  I  laid  it  across  the  turnip-barrel, 
pointing  towards  pap,  and  set  down  behind  it  to  wait 
for  him  to  stir.  And  how  slow  and  still  the  time  did 
drag  along. 


CHAPTER  VII 


IT  up!   What  you  'bout?" 

I  opened  my  eyes  and  looked  around,  try-, 
ing  to  make  out  where  I  was.  It  was  after  sun-up, 
and  I  had  been  sound  asleep.  Pap  was  standing 
over  me  looking  sour — and  sick,  too.    He  says: 

"What  you  doin'  with  this  gun?" 

I  judged  he  didn't  know  nothing  about  what  he 
had  been  doing,  so  I  says: 

"Somebody  tried  to  get  in,  so  I  was  laying  for 
him." 

"Why  didn't  you  roust  me  out?" 
"Well,  I  tried  to,  but  I  couldn't;  I  couldn't  budge 
you." 

"Well,  all  right.  Don't  stand  there  palavering  all 
day,  but  out  with  you  and  see  if  there's  a  fish  on  the 
lines  for  breakfast.    I'll  be  along  in  a  minute." 

He  unlocked  the  door,  and  I  cleared  out  up  the 
river-bank.  I  noticed  some  pieces  of  limbs  and  such 
things  floating  down,  and  a  sprinkling  of  bark;  so  I 
knowed  the  river  had  begun  to  rise.  I  reckoned  I 
would  have  great  times  now  if  I  was  over  at  the 
town.  The  June  rise  used  to  be  always  luck  for 
me;  because  as  soon  as  that  rise  begins  here  comes 
cordwood  floating  down,  and  pieces  of  log  rafts — 
sometimes  a  dozen  logs  together;  so  all  you  have  to 

42 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


do  is  to  catch  them  and  sell  them  to  the  woodyards 
and  the  sawmill. 

I  went  along  up  the  bank  with  one  eye  out  for 
pap  and  Mother  one  out  for  what  the  rise  might  fetch 
along.  Well,  all  at  once  here  comes  a  canoe;  just 
a  beauty,  too,  about  thirteen  or  fourteen  foot  long, 
riding  high  like  a  duck.  I  shot  head-first  off  of  the 
bank  like  a  frog,  clothes  and  all  on,  and  struck  out 
for  the  canoe.  I  just  expected  there' d  be  somebody 
laying  down  in  it,  because  people  often  done  that 
to  fool  folks,  and  when  a  chap  had  pulled  a  skiff 
out  most  to  it  they'd  raise  up  and  laugh  at  him. 
But  it  warn't  so  this  time.  It  was  a  drift-canoe  sure 
enough,  and  I  dumb  in  and  paddled  her  ashore. 
Thinks  I,  the  old  man  will  be  glad  when  he  sees  this 
— she's  worth  ten  dollars.  But  when  I  got  to  shore 
pap  wasn't  in  sight  yet,  and  as  I  was  running  her  into 
a  little  creek  like  a  gully,  all  hung  over  with  vines 
and  willows,  I  struck  another  idea :  I  judged  I'd  hide 
her  good,  and  then,  'stead  of  taking  to  the  woods 
when  I  run  off,  I'd  go  down  the  river  about  fifty 
mile  and  camp  in  one  place  for  good,  and  not  have 
such  a  rough  time  tramping  on  foot. 

It  was  pretty  close  to  the  shanty,  and  I  thought 
I  heard  the  old  man  coming  all  the  time;  but  I  got 
her  hid;  and  then  I  out  and  looked  around  a  bunch 
of  willows,  and  there  was  the  old  man  down  the 
path  a  piece  just  drawing  a  bead  on  a  bird  with  his 
gun.    So  he  hadn't  seen  anything. 

When  he  got  along  I  was  hard  at  it  taking  up  a 
"trot"  line.  He  abused  me  a  little  for  being  so 
slow;  but  I  told  him  I  fell  in  the  river,  and  that  was 

43 


MARK  TWAIN 


what  made  me  so  long.  I  knowed  he  would  see  I 
was  wet,  and  then  he  would  be  asking  questions. 
We  got  five  catfish  off  the  lines  and  went  home. 

While  we  laid  off  after  breakfast  to  sleep  up,  both 
of  us  being  about  wore  out,  I  got  to  thinking  that  if  I 
could  fix  up  some  way  to  keep  pap  and  the  widow 
from  trying  to  follow  me,  it  would  be  a  certainer  thing 
than  trusting  to  luck  to  get  far  enough  off  before 
they  missed  me;  you  see,  all  kinds  of  things  might 
happen.  Well,  I  didn't  see  no  way  for  a  while,  but 
by  and  by  pap  raised  up  a  minute  to  drink  another 
barrel  of  water,  and  he  says: 

"  Another  time  a  man  comes  a-prowling  round  here 
you  roust  me  out,  you  hear?  That  man  warn't  here 
for  no  good.  I'd  a  shot  him.  Next  time  you  roust 
me  out,  you  hear?" 

Then  he  dropped  down  and  went  to  sleep  again; 
what  he  had  been  saying  give  me  the  very  idea  I 
wanted.  I  says  to  myself,  I  can  fix  it  now  so  nobody 
won't  think  of  following  me. 

About,  twelve  o'clock  we  turned  out  and  went  along 
up  the  bank.  The  river  was  coming  up  pretty  fast, 
and  lots  of  driftwood  going  by  on  the  rise.  By  and 
by  along  comes  part  of  a  log  raft-— nine  logs  fast 
together.  We  went  out  with  the  skiff  and  towed  it 
ashore.  Then  we  had  dinner.  Anybody  but  pap 
would  'a*  waited  and  seen  the  day  through,  so  as  to 
catch  more  stuff ;  but  that  warn't  pap's  style.  Nine 
logs  was  enough  for  one  time;  he  must  shove  right 
over  to  town  and  sell.  So  he  locked  me  in  and  took 
the  skiff,  and  started  off  towing  the  raft  about  half 
past  three.    I  judged  he  wouldn't  come  back  that 

44 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


night.  I  waited  till  I  reckoned  he  had  got  a  good 
start;  then  I  out  with  my  saw,  and  went  to  work  on 
that  log  again.  Before  he  was  t'other  side  of  the 
river  1  was  out  of  the  hole ;  him  and  his  raft  was  just  a 
speck  on  the  water  away  off  yonder. 

I  took  the  sack  of  corn  meal  and  took  it  to  where 
the  canoe  was  hid,  and  shoved  the  vines  and  branches 
apart  and  put  it  in;  then  I  done  the  same  with  the 
side  of  bacon;  then  the  whisky- jug.  I  took  all  the 
coffee  and  sugar  there  was,  and  all  the  ammunition ; 
I  took  the  wadding;  I  took  the  bucket  and  gourd; 
took  a  dipper  and  a  tin  cup,  and  my  old  saw  and  two 
blankets,  and  the  skillet  and  the  coffee-pot.  I  took 
fish-lines  and  matches  and  other  things— everything 
that  was  worth  a  cent.  I  cleaned  out  the  place.  I 
wanted  an  ax,  but  there  wasn't  any,  only  the  one  out 
at  the  woodpile,  and  I  knowed  why  I  was  going  to 
leave  that.  I  fetched  out  the  gun,  and  now  I  was 
done. 

I  had  wore  the  ground  a  good  deal  crawling  out  of 
the  hole  and  dragging  out  so  many  things.  So  I 
fixed  that  as  good  as  I  could  from  the  outside  by 
scattering  dust  on  the  place,  which  covered  up  the 
smoothness  and  the  sawdust.  Then  I  fixed  the  piece 
of  log  back  into  its  place,  and  put  two  rocks  under  it 
and  one  against  it  to  hold  it  there,  for  it  was  bent  up 
at  that  place  and  didn't  quite  touch  ground.  If  you 
stood  four  or  five  foot  away  and  didn't  know  it  was 
sawed,  you  wouldn't  never  notice  it;  and  besides, 
this  was  the  back  of  the  cabin,  and  it  warn't  likely 
anybody  would  go  fooling  around  there. 

It  was  all  grass  clear  to  the  canoe,  so  I  hadn't  left  a 

4S 


MARK  TWAIN 

track.  I  followed  around  to  see.  I  stood  on  the 
bank  and  looked  out  over  the  river.  All  safe.  So  I 
took  the  gun  and  went  up  a  piece  into  the  woods,  and 
was  hunting  around  for  some  birds  when  I  see  a  wild 
pig;  hogs  soon  went  wild  in  them  bottoms  after  they 
had  got  away  from  the  prairie-farms.  I  shot  this 
fellow  and  took  him  into  camp. 

I  took  the  ax  and  smashed  in  the  door.  I  beat  it 
and  hacked  it  considerable  a-doing  it.  I  fetched  the 
pig  in,  and  took  him  back  nearly  to  the  table  and 
hacked  into  his  throat  with  the  ax,  and  laid  him  down 
on  the  ground  to  bleed;  I  say  ground  because  it  was 
ground — hard  packed,  and  no  boards.  Well,  next  I 
took  an  old  sack  and  put  a  lot  of  big  rocks  in  it — all 
I  could  drag — and  I  started  it  from  the  pig,  and 
dragged  it  to  the  door  and  through  the  woods  down 
to  the  river  and  dumped  it  in,  and  down  it  sunk,  out 
of  sight.  You  could  easy  see  that  something  had 
been  dragged  over  the  ground.  I  did  wish  Tom 
Sawyer  was  there;  I  knowed  he  would  take  an 
interest  in  this  kind  of  business,  and  throw  in  the 
fancy  touches.  Nobody  could  spread  himself  like 
Tom  Sawyer  in  such  a  thing  as  that. 

Well,  last  I  pulled  out  some  of  my  hair,  and  blooded 
the  ax  good,  and  stuck  it  on  the  back  side,  and  slung 
the  ax  in  the  corner.  Then  I  took  up  the  pig  and  held 
him  to  my  breast  with  my  jacket  (so  he  couldn't  drip) 
till  I  got  a  good  piece  below  the  house  and  then 
dumped  him  into  the  river.  Now  I  thought  of  some- 
thing else.  So  I  went  and  got  the  bag  of  meal  and 
my  old  saw  out  of  the  canoe,  and  fetched  them  to 
the  house.    I  took  the  bag  to  where  it  used  to  stand, 

46 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

and  ripped  a  hole  in  the  bottom  of  it  with  the  saw, 
for  there  warn't  no  knives  and  forks  on  the  place — 
pap  done  everything  with  his  clasp-knife  about  the 
cooking.  Then  I  carried  the  sack  about  a  hundred 
yards  across  the  grass  and  through  the  willows  east 
of  the  house,  to  a  shallow  lake  that  was  five  mile 
wide  and  full  of  rushes — and  ducks  too,  you  might 
say,  in  the  season.  There  was  a  slough  or  a  creek 
leading  out  of  it  on  the  other  side  that  went  miles 
away,  I  don't  know  where,  but  it  didn't  go  to  the 
river.  The  meal  sifted  out  and  made  a  little  track  all 
the  way  to  the  lake.  I  dropped  pap's  whetstone 
there  too,  so  as  to  look  like  it  had  been  done  by 
accident.  Then  I  tied  up  the  rip  in  the  meal-sack 
with  a  string,  so  it  wouldn't  leak  no  more,  and 
took  it  and  my  saw  to  the  canoe  again. 

It  was  about  dark  now;  so  I  dropped  the  canoe 
down  the  river  under  some  willows  that  hung  over  the 
bank,  and  waited  for  the  moon  to  rise.  I  made  fast  to 
a  willow;  then  I  took  a  bite  to  eat,  and  by  and  by  laid 
down  in  the  canoe  to  smoke  a  pipe  and  lay  out  a  plan. 
I  says  to  myself,  they'll  follow  the  track  of  that  sack- 
ful of  rocks  to  the  shore  and  then  drag  the  river  for 
me.  And  they'll  follow  that  meal  track  to  the  lake 
and  go  browsing  down  the  creek  that  leads  out  of  it  to 
find  the  robbers  that  killed  me  and  took  the  things. 
They  won't  ever  hunt  the  river  for  anything  but  my 
dead  carcass.  They'll  soon  get  tired  of  that,  and 
won't  bother  no  more  about  me.  All  right;  I  can 
stop  anywhere  I  want  to.  Jackson's  Island  is  good 
enough  for  me;  I  know  that  island  pretty  well,  and 
nobody  ever  comes  there.   And  then  I  can  paddle 

47 


MARK  TWAIN 


over  to  town  nights,  and  slink  around  and  pick  up 
things  I  want.    Jackson's  Island's  the  place. 

I  was  pretty  tired,  and  the  first  thing  I  knowed  I 
was  asleep.  When  I  woke  up  I  didn't  know  where  I 
was  for  a  minute.  I  set  up  and  looked  around,  a 
little  scared.  Then  I  remembered.  The  river  looked 
miles  and  miles  across.  The  moon  was  so  bright  I 
could  'a'  counted  the  drift-logs  that  went  a-slipping 
along,  black  and  still,  hundreds  of  yards  out  from 
shore.  Everything  was  dead  quiet,  and  it  looked 
late,  and  smelt  late.  You  know  what  I  mean — I 
don't  know  the  words  to  put  it  in. 

I  took  a  good  gap  and  a  stretch,  and  was  just  going 
to  unhitch  and  start  when  I  heard  a  sound  away  over 
the  water.  I  listened.  Pretty  soon  I  made  it  out.  It 
was  that  dull  kind  of  a  regular  sound  that  comes  from 
oars  working  in  rowlocks  when  it's  a  still  night.  I 
peeped  out  through  the  willow  branches,  and  there  it 
was — a  skiff,  away  across  the  water.  I  couldn't  tell 
how  many  was  in  it.  It  kept  a-coming,  and  when  it 
was  abreast  of  me  I  see  there  warn't  but  one  man  in  it. 
Thinks  I,  maybe  it's  pap,  though  I  warn't  expecting 
him.  He  dropped  below  me  with  the  current,  and 
by  and  by  he  came  a-swinging  up  shore  in  the  easy 
water,  and  he  went  by  so  close  I  could  'a'  reached  out 
the  gun  and  touched  him.  Well,  it  was  pap,  sure 
enough — and  sober,  too,  by  the  way  he  laid  his  oars. 

I  didn't  lose  no  time.  The  next  minute  I  was 
a=spinning  down-stream  soft,  but  quick,  in  the  shade 
of  the  bank.  I  made  two  mile  and  a  half,  and  then 
struck  out  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  more  toward  the 
middle  of  the  river,  because  pretty  soon  I  would  be 

48 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


passing  the  ferry-landing,  and  people  might  see  me 
and  hail  me.  I  got  out  amongst  the  driftwood,  and 
then  laid  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe  and  let  her 
float.  I  laid  there,  and  had  a  good  rest  and  a  smoke 
out  of  my  pipe,  lpoking  away  into  the  sky;  not  a 
cloud  in  it.  The  sky  looks  ever  so  deep  when  you  lay 
down  on  your  back  in  the  moonshine ;  I  never  knowed 
it  before.  And  how  far  a  body  can  hear  on  the  water 
such  nights!  I  heard  people  talking  at  the  ferry- 
landing.  I  heard  what  they  said,  too — every  word 
of  it.  One  man  said  it  was  getting  towards  the  long 
days  and  the  short  nights  now.  T'other  one  said  this 
warn't  one  of  the  short  ones,  he  reckoned— and  then 
they  laughed,  and  he  said  it  over  again,  and  they 
laughed  again;  then  they  waked  up  another  fellow 
and  told  him,  and  laughed,  but  he  didn't  laugh;  he 
ripped  out  something  brisk,  and  said  let  him  alone. 
The  first  fellow  said  he  lowed  to  tell  it  to  his  old 
woman— she  would  think  it  was  pretty  good;  but  he 
said  that  warn't  nothing  to  some  things  he  had  said 
in  his  time.  I  heard  one  man  say  it  was  nearly  three 
o'clock,  and  he  hoped  daylight  wouldn't  wait  more 
than  about  a  week  longer.  After  that  the  talk  got 
further  and  further  away,  and  I  couldn't  make  out 
the  words  any  more;  but  I  could  hear  the  mumble, 
and  now  and  then  a  laugh,  too,  but  it  seemed  a  long 
ways  off. 

I  was  away  below  the  ferry  now.  I  rose  up,  and 
there  was  Jackson's  Island,  about  two  mile  and  a  half 
down-stream,  heavy-timbered  and  standing  up  out 
of  the  middle  of  the  river,  big  and  dark  and  solid,  like 
a  steamboat  without  any  lights.   There  warn't  any 

49 


MARK  TWAIN 


signs  of  the  bar  at  the  head — it  was  all  under  water 
now. 

It  didn't  take  me  long  to  get  there.  I  shot  past  the 
head  at  a  ripping  rate,  the  current  was  so  swift,  and 
then  I  got  into  the  dead  water  and  landed  on  the  side 
towards  the  Illinois  shore.  I  run  the  canoe  into  a  deep 
dent  in  the  bank  that  I  knowed  about;  I  had  to  part 
the  willow  branches  to  get  in ;  and  when  I  made  fast 
nobody  could  'a'  seen  the  canoe  from  the  outside. 

I  went  up  and  set  down  on  a  log  at  the  head  of  the 
island,  and  looked  out  on  the  big  river  and  the  black 
driftwood  and  away  over  to  the  town,  three  mile 
away,  where  there  was  three  or  four  lights  twinkling. 
A  monstrous  big  lumber-raft  was  about  a  mile  up- 
stream, coming  along  down,  with  a  lantern  in  the 
middle  of  it.  I  watched  it  come  creeping  down,  and 
when  it  was  most  abreast  of  where  I  stood  I  heard  a 
man  say,  " Stern  oars,  there!  heave  her  head  to  stab- 
board  !"  I  heard  that  just  as  plain  as  if  the  man  was 
by  my  side. 

There  was  a  little  gray  in  the  sky  now ;  so  I  stepped 
into  the  woods,  and  laid  down  for  a  nap  before  break- 
fast. 


CHAPTER  VHI 


THE  sun  was  up  so  high  when  I  waked  that  1 
judged  it  was  after  eight  o'clock.  I  laid  there 
in  the  grass  and  the  cool  shade  thinking  about  things, 
and  feeling  rested  and  ruther  comfortable  and  satis- 
fied. I  could  see  the  sun  out  at  one  or  two  holes,  but 
mostly  it  was  big  trees  all  about,  and  gloomy  in  there 
amongst  them.  There  was  freckled  places  on  the 
ground  where  the  light  sifted  down  through  the 
leaves,  and  the  freckled  places  swapped  about  a  little, 
showing  there  was  a  little  breeze  up  there.  A  couple 
of  squirrels  set  on  a  limb  and  jabbered  at  me  very 
friendly. 

I  was  powerful  lazy  and  comfortable — didn't  want 
to  get  up  and  cook  breakfast.  Well,  I  was  dozing  off 
again  when  I  thinks  I  hears  a  deep  sound  of  "boom!" 
away  up  the  river.  I  rouses  up,  and  rests  on  my 
elbow  and  listens;  pretty  soon  I  hears  it  again.  I 
hopped  up,  and  went  and  looked  out  at  a  hole  in 
the  leaves,  and  I  see  a  bunch  of  smoke  laying  on 
the  water  a  long  ways  up — about  abreast  the  ferry. 
And  there  was  the  ferryboat  full  of  people  floating 
along  down.  I  knowed  what  was  the  matter  now. 
"Boom!"  I  see  the  white  smoke  squirt  out  of  the 
ferryboat's  side.  You  see,  they  was  firing  cannon 
over  the  water,  trying  to  make  my  carcass  come  to 
the  top, 

5i 


MARK  TWAIN 

I  was  pretty  hungry,  but  it  warn't  going  to  do  for 
me  to  start  a  fire,  because  they  might  see  the  smoke. 
So  I  set  there  and  watched  the  cannon-smoke  and 
listened  to  the  boom.  The  river  was  a  mile  wide 
there,  and  it  always  looks  pretty  on  a  summer  morn- 
ing— so  I  was  having  a  good  enough  time  seeing  them 
hunt  for  my  remainders  if  I  only  had  a  bite  to  eat. 
Well,  then  I  happened  to  think  how  they  always  put 
quicksilver  in  loaves  of  bread  and  float  them  off,  be- 
cause they  always  go  right  to  the  drownded  carcass 
and  stop  there.  So,  says  I,  I'll  keep  a  lookout,  and 
if  any  of  them's  floating  around  after  me  I'll  give 
them  a  show.  I  changed  to  the  Illinois  edge  of  the 
island  to  see  what  luck  I  could  have,  and  I  warn't 
disappointed.  A  big  double  loaf  come  along,  and  I 
most  got  it  with  a  long  stick,  but  my  foot  slipped  and 
she  floated  out  further.  Of  course  I  was  where  the 
current  set  in  the  closest  to  the  shore — I  knowed 
enough  for  that.  But  by  and  by  along  comes  another 
one,  and  this  time  I  won.  I  took  out  the  plug  and 
shook  out  the  little  dab  of  quicksilver,  and  set  my 
teeth  in.  It  was  ' '  baker's  bread"— what  the  quality 
eat;  none  of  your  low-down  corn-pone. 

I  got  a  good  place  amongst  the  leaves,  and  set  there 
on  a  log,  munching  the  bread  and  watching  the  ferry- 
boat, and  very  well  satisfied.  And  then  something 
struck  me.  I  says,  now  I  reckon  the  widow  or  the 
parson  or  somebody  prayed  that  this  bread  would  find 
me,  and  here  it  has  gone  and  done  it.  So  there  ain't 
no  doubt  but  there  is  something  in  that  thing — that 
is,  there's  something  in  it  when  a  body  like  the 
widow  or  the  parson  prays,  but  it  don't  work  for 

52 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


me,  and  I  reckon  it  don't  work  for  only  just  the 
right  kind. 

I  lit  a  pipe  and  had  a  good  long  smoke,  and  went 
on  watching.  The  ferryboat  was  floating  with  the 
current,  and  I  allowed  I'd  have  a  chance  to  see  who 
was  aboard  when  she  come  along,  because  she  would 
come  in  close,  where  the  bread  did.  When  she'd  got 
pretty  well  along  down  towards  me,  I  put  out  my  pipe 
and  went  to  where  I  fished  out  the  bread,  and  laid 
down  behind  a  log  on  the  bank  in  a  little  open  place. 
Where  the  log  forked  I  could  peep  through. 

By  and  by  she  come  along,  and  she  drifted  in  so 
close  that  they  could  'a'  run  out  a  plank  and  walked 
ashore.  Most  everybody  was  on  the  boat.  Pap,  and 
Judge  Thatcher,  and  Bessie  Thatcher,  and  Joe  Harper, 
and  Tom  Sawyer,  and  his  old  Aunt  Polly,  and  Sid  and 
Mary,  and  plenty  more.  Everybody  was  talking 
about  the  murder,  but  the  captain  broke  in  and  says : 

"Look  sharp,  now;  the  current  sets  in  the  closest 
)here,  and  maybe  he's  washed  ashore  and  got  tangled 
amongst  the  brush  at  the  water's  edge.  I  hope  so, 
anyway." 

I  didn't  hope  so.  They  all  crowded  up  and  leaned 
over  the  rails,  nearly  in  my  face,  and  kept  still,  watch- 
ing with  all  their  might.  I  could  see  them  first-rate, 
but  they  couldn't  see  me.  Then  the  captain  sung  out : 
"Stand  away!"  and  the  cannon  let  off  such  a  blast 
right  before  me  that  it  made  me  deef  with  the  noise 
and  pretty  near  blind  with  the  smoke,  and  I  judged 
I  was  gone.  If  they'd  'a'  had  some  bullets  in,  I  reckon 
they'd  'a'  got  the  corpse  they  was  after.  Well,  I  see  I 
warn't  hurt,  thanks  to  goodness.  The  boat  floated  on 

53 


MARK  TWAIN 


and  went  out  of  sight  around  the  shoulder  of  the 
island.  I  could  hear  the  booming  now  and  then, 
further  and  further  off,  and  by  and  by,  after  an  hour, 
I  didn't  hear  it  no  more.  The  island  was  three  mile 
long.  I  judged  they  had  got  to  the  foot,  and  was 
giving  it  up.  But  they  didn't  yet  awhile.  They 
turned  around  the  foot  of  the  island  and  started  up 
the  channel  on  the  Missouri  side,  under  steam,  and 
booming  once  in  a  while  as  they  went.  I  crossed  over 
to  that  side  and  watched  them.  When  they  got 
abreast  the  head  of  the  island  they  quit  shooting  and 
dropped  over  to  the  Missouri  shore  and  went  home 
to  the  town. 

I  knowed  I  was  all  right  now.  Nobody  else  would 
come  a-hunting  after  me.  I  got  my  traps  out  of  the 
canoe  and  made  me  a  nice  camp  in  the  thick  woods. 
I  made  a  kind  of  a  tent  out  of  my  blankets  to  put 
my  things  under  so  the  rain  couldn't  get  at  them.  I 
catched  a  catfish  and  haggled  him  open  with  my  saw, 
and  towards  sundown  I  started  my  camp-fire  and  had 
supper.  Then  I  set  out  a  line  to  catch  some  fish  for 
breakfast. 

When  it  was  dark  I  set  by  my  camp-fire  smoking, 
1  and  feeling  pretty  well  satisfied ;  but  by  and  by  it  got 
sort  of  lonesome,  and  so  I  went  and  set  on  the  bank 
and  listened  to  the  current  swashing  along,  and 
counted  the  stars  and  drift -logs  and  rafts  that  come 
down,  and  then  went  to  bed;  there  ain't  no  better 
way  to  put  in  time  when  you  are  lonesome;  you  can't 
stay  so,  you  soon  get  over  it. 

And  so  for  three  days  and  nights.  No  difference — • 
just  the  same  thing.  But  the  next  day  I  went  explor- 

54 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


ing  around  down  through  the  island.  I  was  boss  of  it ; 
it  all  belonged  to  me,  so  to  say,  and  I  wanted  to  know 
all  about  it ;  but  mainly  I  wanted  to  put  in  the  time. 
I  found  plenty  strawberries,  ripe  and  prime;  and 
green  summer  grapes,  and  green  razberries;  and  the 
green  blackberries  was  just  beginning  to  show.  They 
would  all  come  handy  by  and  by,  I  judged. 

Well,  I  went  fooling  along  in  the  deep  woods  till  I 
judged  I  warn't  far  from  the  foot  of  the  island.  I  had 
my  gun  along,  but  I  hadn't  shot  nothing;  it  was  for 
protection;  thought  I  would  kill  some  game  nigh 
home.  About  this  time  I  mighty  near  stepped  on  a 
good-sized  snake,  and  it  went  sliding  off  through  the 
grass  and  flowers,  and  I  after  it,  trying  to  get  a  shot 
at  it.  I  clipped  along,  and  all  of  a  sudden  I  bounded 
right  on  to  the  ashes  of  a  camp-fire  that  was  still 
smoking. 

My  heart  jumped  up  amongst  my  lungs.  I  never 
waited  for  to  look  further,  but  uncocked  my  gun  and 
went  sneaking  back  on  my  tiptoes  as  fast  as  ever  I 
could.  Every  now  and  then  I  stopped  a  second 
amongst  the  thick  leaves  and  listened,  but  my  breath 
come  so  hard  I  couldn't  hear  nothing  else.  I  slunk 
along  another  piece  further,  then  listened  again;  and 
so  on,  and  so  on.  If  I  see  a  stump,  I  took  it  for  a  man ; 
if  I  trod  on  a  stick  and  broke  it,  it  made  me  feel  like 
a  person  had  cut  one  of  my  breaths  in  two  and  I  only 
got  half,  and  the  short  half,  too. 

When  I  got  to  camp  I  warn't  feeling  very  brash, 
there  warn't  much  sand  in  my  craw;  but  I  says,  this 
ain't  no  time  to  be  fooling  around.  So  I  got  all  my 
traps  into  my  canoe  again  so  as  to  have  them  out  of 

55 


MARK  TWAIN 


sight,  and  I  put  out  the  fire  and  scattered  the  ashes 
around  to  look  like  an  old  last -year's  camp,  and  then 
dumb  a  tree. 

I  reckon  I  was  up  in  the  tree  two  hours;  but  I 
didn't  see  nothing,  I  didn't  hear  nothing— I  only 
thought  I  heard  and  seen  as  much  as  a  thousand 
things.  Well,  I  couldn't  stay  up  there  forever;  so  at 
last  I  got  down,  but  I  kept  in  the  thick  woods  and  on 
the  lookout  all  the  time.  All  I  could  get  to  eat  was 
berries  and  what  was  left  over  from  breakfast. 

By  the  time  it  was  night  I  was  pretty  hungry.  So 
when  it  was  good  and  dark  I  slid  out  from  shore  before 
moonrise  and  paddled  over  to  the  Illinois  bank — 
about  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  I  went  out  in  the  woods 
and  cooked  a  supper,  and  I  had  about  made  up  my 
mind  I  would  stay  there  all  night  when  I  hear  a 
plunk ety- plunk,  plunkety-plunk,  and  says  to  myself, 
horses  corning;  and  next  I  hear  people's  voices.  I  got 
everything  into  the  canoe  as  quick  as  I  could,  and 
then  went  creeping  through  the  woods  to  see  what  I 
could  find  out.  I  hadn't  got  far  when  I  hear  a  man 
say: 

"We  better  camp  here  if  we  can  find  a  good 
place;  the  horses  is  about  beat  out.  Let's  look 
around." 

I  didn't  wait,  but  shoved  out  and  paddled  away 
easy.  I  tied  up  in  the  old  place,  and  reckoned  I  would 
sleep  in  the  canoe. 

I  didn't  sleep  much.  I  couldn't,  somehow,  for 
thinking.  And  every  time  I  waked  up  I  thought 
somebody  had  me  by  the  neck.  So  the  sleep  didn't 
do  me  no  good.  By  and  by  I  says  to  myself,  I  can't 

56 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


live  this  way;  I'm  a-going  to  find  out  who  it  is  that's 
here  on  the  island  with  me;  I'll  find  it  out  or  bust. 
Well,  I  felt  better  right  off. 

So  I  took  my  paddle  and  slid  out  from  shore  just 
a  step  or  two,  and  then  let  the  canoe  drop  along  down 
amongst  the  shadows.  The  moon  was  shining,  and 
outside  of  the  shadows  it  made  it  most  as  light  as 
day.  I  poked  along  well  on  to  an  hour,  everything 
still  as  rocks  and  sound  asleep.  Well,  by  this  time  I 
was  most  down  to  the  foot  of  the  island.  A  little 
ripply,  cool  breeze  begun  to  blow,  and  that  was  as 
good  as  saying  the  night  was  about  done.  I  give  her 
a  turn  with  the  paddle  and  brung  her  nose  to  shore; 
then  I  got  my  gun  and  slipped  out  and  into  the  edge 
of  the  woods.  I  sat  down  there  on  a  log,  and  looked 
out  through  the  leaves.  I  see  the  moon  go  off  watch, 
and  the  darkness  begin  to  blanket  the  river.  But  in 
a  little  while  I  see  a  pale  streak  over  the  treetops, 
and  knowed  the  day  was  coming,  So  I  took  my  gun 
and  slipped  off  towards  where  I  had  run  across  that 
camp-fire,  stopping  every  minute  or  two  to  listen. 
But  I  hadn't  no  luck  somehow;  I  couldn't  seem  to 
find  the  place.  But  by  and  by,  sure  enough,  I  catched 
a  glimpse  of  fire  away  through  the  trees.  I  went  for 
it,  cautious  and  slow.  By  and  by  I  was  close  enough 
to  have  a  look,  and  there  laid  a  man  on  the  ground. 
It  most  give  me  the  fantods.  He  had  a  blanket 
around  his  head,  and  his  head  was  nearly  in  the  fire. 
I  set  there  behind  a  clump  of  bushes  in  about  six  foot 
of  him,  and  kept  my  eyes  on  him  steady.  It  was 
getting  gray  daylight  now.  Pretty  soon  he  gapped 
and  stretched  himself  and  hove  off  the  blanket,  and 

57 


MARK  TWAIN 


it  was  Miss  Watson's  Jim!  I  bet  I  was  glad  to  see 
him.    I  says: 

" Hello,  Jim!"  and  skipped  out. 

He  bounced  up  and  stared  at  me  wild.  Then  he 
drops  down  on  his  knees,  and  puts  his  hands  together 
and  says: 

"Doan'  hurt  me — don't!  I  hain't  ever  done  no 
harm  to  a  ghos'.  I  alwuz  liked  dead  people,  en  done 
all  I  could  for  'em.  You  go  en  git  in  de  river  ag'in, 
whah  you  b'longs,  en  doan'  do  nuffn  to  Ole  Jim,  'at 
'uz  alwuz  yo'  fren'." 

Well,  I  warn't  long  making  him  understand  I 
warn't  dead.  I  was  ever  so  glad  to  see  Jim.  I 
warn't  lonesome  now.  I  told  him  I  warn't  afraid  of 
him  telling  the  people  where  I  was.  I  talked  along, 
but  he  only  set  there  and  looked  at  me;  never  said 
nothing.    Then  I  says: 

"It's  good  daylight.  Le's  get  breakfast.  Make 
up  your  camp-fire  good." 

"What's  de  use  er  makin'  up  de  camp-fire  to  cook 
strawbries  en  sich  truck?  But  you  got  a  gun,  hain't 
you?    Den  we  kin  git  sumfn  better  den  strawbries." 

"Strawberries  and  such  truck,"  I  says.  "Is  that 
what  you  live  on?" 

"I  couldn'  git  nuffn  else,"  he  says! 

"Why,  how  long  you  been  on  the  island,  Jim?" 

"I  come  heah  de  night  arter  you's  killed." 

"What,  all  that  time?" 

"Yes-indeedy." 

"And  ain't  you  had  nothing  but  that  kind  of  tub- 
bage  to  eat?" 

"No,  sah— nuffn  else." 

58 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Well,  you  must  be  most  starved,  ain't  you?" 

"I  reck'n  I  could  eat  a  hoss.  I  think  I  could. 
How  long  you  ben  on  de  islan'  ?" 

"Since  the  night  I  got  killed." 

"No!  W'y,  what  has  you  lived  on?  But  you  got 
a  gun.  Oh,  yes,  you  got  a  gun.  Dat's  good.  Now 
you  kill  sumfn  en  I'll  make  up  de  fire." 

So  we  went  over  to  where  the  canoe  was,  and  while 
he  built  a  fire  in  a  grassy  open  place  amongst  the 
trees,  I  fetched  meal  and  bacon  and  coffee,  and  coffee- 
pot and  frying-pan,  and  sugar  and  tin  cups,  and  the 
nigger  was  set  back  considerable,  because  he  reckoned 
it  was  all  done  with  witchcraft.  I  catched  a  good 
big  catfish,  too,  and  Jim  cleaned  him  with  his  knife, 
and  fried  him. 

When  breakfast  was  ready  we  lolled  on  the  grass 
and  eat  it  smoking  hot.  Jim  laid  it  in  with  all  his 
might,  for  he  was  most  about  starved.  Then  when 
we  had  got  pretty  well  stuffed,  we  laid  off  and 
lazied. 

By  and  by  Jim  says: 

"But  looky  here,  Huck,  who  wuz  it  dat  'uz  killed 
in  dat  shanty  ef  it  warn't  you?" 

Then  I  told  him  the  whole  thing,  and  he  said  it  was 
smart.  He  said  Tom  Sawyer  couldn't  get  up  no 
better  plan  than  what  I  had.    Then  I  says : 

"How  do  you  come  to  be  here,  Jim,  and  how'd  you 
get  here?" 

He  looked  pretty  uneasy,  and  didn't  say  nothing  for 
a  minute.    Then  he  says : 
"Maybe  I  better  not  tell." 
"Why,  Jim?" 

en  M.T.-S-3 


MARK  TWAIN' 


"Well,  dey's  reasons.    But  you  wouldn'  tell  on  me 
ef  I  'uz  to  tell  you,  would  you,  Huck?" 
"Blamed  if  I  would,  Jim." 
"Well,  I  b'lieve  you,  Huck.    I— I  run  cff" 
"Jim!" 

"But  mind,  you  said  you  wouldn'  tell-— you  know 
you  said  you  wouldn'  tell,  Huck." 

' '  Well,  I  did.  I  said  I  wouldn't,  and  I'll  stick  to  it. 
Honest  injun,  I  will.  People  would  call  me  a  low- 
down  Abolitionist  and  despise  me  for  keeping  mum — 
but  that  don't  make  no  difference.  I  ain't  a-going  to 
tell,  and  I  ain't  a-going  back  there,  anyways.  So, 
now,  le's  know  all  about  it." 

"Well,  you  see,  it  'uz  dis  way.  Ole  missus — dat's 
Miss  Watson — she  pecks  on  me  all  de  time,  en  treats 
me  pooty  rough,  but  she  awluz  said  she  wouldn'  sell 
me  down  to  Orleans.  But  I  noticed  dey  wuz  a  nigger 
trader  roun'  de  place  considable  lately,  en  I  begin  to 
git  oneasy.  Well,  one  night  I  creeps  to  de  do'  pooty 
late,  en  de  do'  warn't  quite  shet,  en  I  hear  old  missus 
tell  de  widder  she  gwyne  to  sell  me  down  to  Orleans, 
but  she  didn'  want  to,  but  she  could  git  eight  hund'd 
dollars  for  me,  en  it  'uz  sich  a  big  stack  o'  money  she 
couldn'  resis'.  De  widder  she  try  to  git  her  to  say 
she  wouldn't  do  it,  but  I  never  waited  to  hear  de  res'. 
I  lit  out  mighty  quick,  I  tell  you. 

* ' 1  tuck  out  en  shin  down  de  hill,  en  'spec  to  steal  a 
skift  'long  de  sho'  som'ers  'bove  de  town,  but  dey  wuz 
people  a-stirring  yit,  so  I  hid  in  de  ole  tumbledown 
cooper  shop  on  de  bank  to  wait  for  everybody  to  go 
'way.  Well,  I  wuz  dah  all  night.  Dey  wuz  somebody 
roun'  all  de  time.    'Long  'bout  six  in  de  mawnin' 

60 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


skifts  begin  to  go  by,  en  'bout  eight  er  nine  every 
skift  dat  went  long  wuz  talkin'  'bout  how  yo'  pap 
come  over  to  de  town  en  say  you's  killed.  Dese  las' 
skifts  wuz  full  o'  ladies  en  genlmen  a-goin'  over  for  to 
see  de  place.  Sometimes  dey'd  pull  up  at  de  sho'  en 
take  a  res'  b'fo'  dey  started  acrost,  so  by  de  talk  I  got 
to  know  all  'bout  de  killin\  I  'uz  powerful  sorry 
you's  killed,  Huck,  but  I  ain't  no  mo'  now. 

"I  laid  dah  under  de  shavin's  all  day.  I  'uz 
hungry,  but  I  warn't  afeard;  bekase  I  knowed  ole 
missus  en  de  widder  wuz  goin'  to  start  to  de  camp- 
meet  *n'  right  arter  breakfas'  en  be  gone  all  day,  en 
dey  knows  I  goes  off  wid  de  cattle  'bout  daylight,  so 
dey  wouldn'  'spec  to  see  me  roun'  de  place,  en  so  dey 
wouldn'  miss  me  tell  arter  dark  in  de  evenin'.  De 
yuther  servants  wouldn'  miss  me,  kase  dey'd  shin  out 
en  take  holiday  soon  as  de  ole  folks  'uz  out'n  de  way. 

"Well,  when  it  come  dark  I  tuck  out  up  de  river 
road,  en  went  'bout  two  mile  er  more  to  whah  dey 
warn't  no  houses.  I'd  made  up  my  mine  'bout  what 
I's  a-gwyne  to  do.  You  see,  ef  I  kep'  on  tryin'  to  git 
away  afoot,  de  dogs  'ud  track  me;  ef  I  stole  a  skift  to 
cross  over,  dey'd  miss  dat  skift,  you  see,  en  dey'd 
know  'bout  whah  I'd  lan'  on  de  yuther  side,  en  whah 
to  pick  up  my  track.  So  I  says,  a  raff  is  what  I's 
arter;  it  doan'  make  no  track. 

( '  I  see  a  light  a-comin'  roun*  de  p'int  bymeby,  so  I 
wade'  in  en  shove'  a  log  ahead  o'  me  en  swum  more 'a 
half-way  acrost  de  river,  en  got  in  'mongst  de  drift- 
wood, en  kep'  my  head  down  low,  en  kinder  swum 
agin  de  current  tell  de  raff  come  along.  Den  I  swum 
to  de  stern  uv  it  en  tuck  a-holt.    It  clouded  up  en  'uz 

61 


MARK  TWAIN 


pooty  dark  for  a  little  while.  So  I  dumb  up  en  laid 
down  on  de  planks.  De  men  'uz  all  'way  yonder  in 
de  middle,  whah  de  lantern  wuz.  De  river  wuz  a- 
risin',  en  dey  wuz  a  good  current;  so  I  reck'n'd  'at 
by  fo'  in  de  mawnin'  I'd  be  twenty-five  mile  down  de 
river,  en  den  I'd  slip  in  jis  fc'fo'  daylight  en  swim 
asho\  en  take  to  de  woods  on  de  Illinois  side. 

"But  I  didn'  have  no  luck.  When  we  'uz  mos' 
down  to  de  head  er  de  islan'  a  man  begin  to  come  aft 
wid  de  lantern.  I  see  it  warn't  no  use  fer  to  wait,  so  I 
slid  overboard  en  struck  out  fer  de  islan'.  Well,  I  had 
a  notion  I  could  Ian'  mos'  anywhers,  but  I  couldn't— 
bank  too  bluff.  I  'uz  mos'  to  de  foot  er  de  islan' 
b'fo'  I  foun'  a  good  place.  I  went  into  de  woods  en 
jedged  I  wouldn'  fool  wid  raffs  no  mo',  long  as  dey 
move  de  lantern  roun'  so.  I  had  my  pipe  en  a  plug  er 
dog-leg  en  some  matches  in  my  cap,  en  dey  warn't 
wet,  so  I  'uz  all  right." 

"And  so  you  ain't  had  no  meat  nor  bread  to  eat 
all  this  time?    Why  didn't  you  get  mud-turkles?" 

"How  you  gwyne  to  git 'm  ?  You  can't  slip  up  on 
um  en  grab  um;  en  how's  a  body  gwyne  to  hit  um 
wid  a  rock?  How  could  a  body  do  it  in  de  night? 
En  I  warn't  gwyne  to  show  mysef  on  de  bank  in  de 
'  daytime." 

"Well,  that's  so.  You've  had  to  keep  in  the 
woods  all  the  time,  of  course.  Did  you  hear  'em 
shooting  the  cannon?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I  knowed  dey  was  arter  you.  I  see 
um  go  by  heah — watched  um  thoo  de  bushes." 

Some  young  birds  come  along,  flying  a  yard  or  two 
at  a  time  and  lighting.    Jim  said  it  was  a  sign  it 

62 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


was  going  to  rain.  He  said  it  was  a  sign  when  young 
chickens  flew  that  way,  and  so  he  reckoned  it  was 
the  same  way  when  young  birds  done  it.  I  was  going 
to  catch  some  of  them,  but  Jim  wouldn't  let  me.  He 
said  it  was  death.  He  said  his  father  laid  mighty 
sick  once,  and  some  of  them  catched  a  bird,  and  his 
old  granny  said  his  father  would  die,  and  he  did. 

And  Jim  said  you  mustn't  count  the  things  you 
are  going  to  cook  for  dinner,  because  that  would 
bring  bad  luck.  The  same  if  you  shook  the  table- 
cloth after  sundown.  And  he  said  if  a  man  owned 
a  beehive  and  that  man  died,  the  bees  must  be  told 
about  it  before  sun-up  next  morning,  or  else  the  bees 
would  all  weaken  down  and  quit  work  and  die.  Jim 
said  bees  wouldn't  sting  idiots;  but  I  didn't  believe 
that,  because  I  had  tried  them  lots  of  times  myself, 
and  they  wouldn't  sting  me. 

I  had  heard  about  some  of  these  things  before, 
but  not  all  of  them.  Jim  knowed  all  kinds  of  signs. 
He  said  he  knowed  most  everything.  I  said  it 
looked  to  me  like  all  the  signs  was  about  bad  luck, 
and  so  I  asked  him  if  there  warn't  any  good-luck 
signs.    He  says: 

"Mighty  few — an*  dey  ain't  no  use  to  a  body. 
What  you  want  to  know  when  good  luck's  a-comin' 
for  ?  Want  to  keep  it  off  ?"  And  he  said : ' '  Ef  you's 
got  hairy  arms  en  a  hairy  breas',  it's  a  sign  dat  you's 
a-gwyne  to  be  rich.  Well,  dey's  some  use  in  a  sign 
like  dat,  'kase  it's  so  fur  ahead.  You  see,  maybe 
you's  got  to  be  po'  a  long  time  fust,  en  so  you  might 
git  discourage'  en  kill  yo'sef  'f  you  didn'  know  by 
de  sign  dat  you  gwyne  to  be  rich  bymeby." 

63 


MARK  TWAIN 


* '  Have  you  got  hairy  arms  and  a  hairy  breast,  Jim  ?" 
"What's  de  use  to  ax  dat  question?    Don't  you 
see  I  has?" 

"Well,  are  you  rich ?" 

"No,  but  I  ben  rich  wunst,  and  gwyne  to  be 
rich  ag'in.  Wunst  I  had  foteen  dollars,  but  I  tuck 
to  specalat'n*,  en  got  busted  out." 

"What  did  you  speculate  in,  Jim?" 

"Well,  fust  I  tackled  stock." 

"What  kind  of  stock?" 

"Why,  live  stock — cattle,  you  know.  I  put  ten 
dollars  in  a  cow.  But  I  ain'  gwyne  to  resk  no  mo' 
money  in  stock.    De  cow  up  'n'  died  on  my  han's." 

"So  you  lost  the  ten  dollars." 

"No,  I  didn't  lose  it  all.  I  on'y  los'  'bout  nine  of 
it.    I  sole  de  hide  en  taller  for  a  dollar  en  ten  cents." 

"You  had  five  dollars  and  ten  cents  left.  Did  you 
speculate  any  more?" 

4 'Yes.  You  know  that  one-laigged  nigger  dat 
b 'longs  to  old  Misto  Bradish?  Well,  he  sot  up  a 
bank,  en  say  anybody  dat  put  in  a  dollar  would  git 
fo'  dollars  mo'  at  de  en'  er  de  year.  Well,  all  de 
niggers  went  in,  but  dey  didn't  have  much.  I  wuz 
de  on'y  one  dat  had  much.  So  I  stuck  out  for  mo* 
dan  fo'  dollars,  en  I  said  'f  I  didn'  git  it  I'd  start  a 
bank  mysef.  Well,  o'  course  dat  nigger  want'  to 
keep  me  out  er  de  business,  bekase  he  says  dey 
warn't  business  'nough  for  two  banks,  so  he  say  I 
could  put  in  my  five  dollars  en  he  pay  me  thirty-five 
at  de  en'  er  de  year. 

"So  I  done  it.  Den  I  reck'n'd  I'd  inves'  de 
thirty-five  dollars  right  off  en  keep  things  a-movin\ 

64 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Dey  wuz  a  nigger  name'  Bob,  dat  had  ketched  a 
wood-flat,  en  his  marster  didn'  know  it ;  en  I  bought 
it  off 'n  him  en  told  him  to  take  de  thirty-five  dollars 
when  de  en'  er  de  year  come;  but  somebody  stole 
de  wood-flat  dat  night,  en  nex'  day  de  one4aigged 
nigger  say  de  bank's  busted.  So  dey  didn'  none  uv 
us  git  no  money." 

"What  did  you  do  with  the  ten  cents,  Jim?" 

"Well,  I  'uz  gwyne  to  spen'  it,  but  I  had  a  dream, 
en  de  dream  tole  me  to  give  it  to  a  nigger  name' 
Balum — Balum's  Ass  dey  call  him  for  short;  he's 
one  er  dem  chuckleheads,  you  know.  But  he's  lucky, 
dey  say,  en  I  see  I  warn't  lucky.  De  dream  say  let 
Balum  inves'  de  ten  cents  en  he'd  make  a  raise  for 
me.  Well,  Balum  he  tuck  de  money,  en  when  he 
wuz  in  church  he  hear  de  preacher  say  dat  whoever 
give  to  de  po'  len'  to  de  Lord,  en  boun'  to  git  his 
money  back  a  hund'd  times.  So  Balum  he  tuck  en 
give  de  ten  cents  to  de  po',  en  laid  low  to  see  what 
wuz  gwyne  to  come  of  it." 

"Well,  what  did  come  of  it,  Jim?" 

"Nuffn  never  come  of  it.  I  couldn'  manage  to 
k'leck  dat  money  no  wTay;  en  Balum  he  couldn*.  I 
ain'  gwyne  to  len'  no  mo'  money  'dout  I  see  de 
security.  Boun'  to  git  yo'  money  back  a  hund'd 
times,  de  preacher  says !  Ef  I  could  git  de  ten  cents 
back,  I'd  call  it  squah,  en  be  glad  er  de  chanst." 

"Well,  it's  all  right  anyway,  Jim,  long  as  you're 
going  to  be  rich  again  some  time  or  other." 

"Yes;  en  I's  rich  now,  come  to  look  at  it.  I  owns 
mysef,  en  I's  wuth  eight  hund'd  dollars.  I  wisht  I 
had  de  money,  I  wouldn'  want  no  mo'." 

6s 


CHAPTER  IX 


I WANTED  to  go  and  look  at  a  place  right  about 
the  middle  of  the  island  that  I'd  found  when  I 
Was  exploring;  so  we  started  and  soon  got  to  it, 
because  the  island  was  only  three  miles  long  and  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  wide. 

This  place  was  a  tolerable  long,  steep  hill  or  ridge 
about  forty  foot  high.  We  had  a  rough  time  getting 
to  the  top,  the  sides  was  so  steep  and  the  bushes  so 
thick.  We  tramped  and  clumb  around  all  over  it, 
and  by  and  by  found  a  good  big  cavern  in  the  rock, 
most  up  to  the  top  on  the  side  towards  Illinois.  The 
cavern  was  as  big  as  two  or  three  rooms  bunched 
together,  and  Jim  could  stand  up  straight  in  it.  It 
was  cool  in  there.  Jim  was  for  putting  our  traps 
in  there  right  away,  but  I  said  we  didn't  want  to 
be  climbing  up  and  down  there  all  the  time. 

Jim  said  if  we  had  the  canoe  hid  in  a  good  place, 
and  had  all  the  traps  in  the  cavern,  we  could  rush 
there  if  anybody  was  to  come  to  the  island,  and  they 
would  never  find  us  without  dogs.  And,  besides,  he 
said  them  little  birds  had  said  it  was  going  to  rain, 
and  did  I  want  the  things  to  get  wet? 

So  we  went  back  and  got  the  canoe,  and  paddled 
up  abreast  the  cavern,  and  lugged  all  the  traps  up 
there.   Then  we  hunted  up  a  place  close  by  to  hide 

66 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


the  canoe  in,  amongst  the  thick  willows.  We  took 
some  fish  off  of  the  lines  and  set  them  again,  and 
begun  to  get  ready  for  dinner. 

The  door  of  the  cavern  was  big  enough  to  roll  a 
hogshead  in,  and  on  one  side  of  the  door  the  floor 
stuck  out  a  little  bit,  and  was  flat  and  a  good  place 
to  build  a  fire  on.  So  we  built  it  there  and  cooked 
dinner. 

We  spread  the  blankets  inside  for  a  carpet,  and  eat 
our  dinner  in  there.  We  put  all  the  other  things 
handy  at  the  back  of  the  cavern.  Pretty  soon  it 
darkened  up,  and  begun  to  thunder  and  lighten;  so 
the  birds  was  right  about  it.  Directly  it  begun  to 
rain,  and  it  rained  like  all  fury,  too,  and  I  never  see 
the  wind  blow  so.  It  was  one  of  these  regular  sum- 
mer storms.  It  would  get  so  dark  that  it  looked  all 
bluerblack  outside,  and  lovely;  and  the  rain  would 
thrash  along  by  so  thick  that  the  trees  off  a  little 
ways  looked  dim  and  spider- webby ;  and  here  would 
come  a  blast  of  wind  that  would  bend  the  trees 
down  and  turn  up  the  pale  underside  of  the  leaves; 
and  then  a  perfect  ripper  of  a  gust  would  follow 
along  and  set  the  branches  to  tossing  their  arms  as 
if  they  was  just  wild;  and  next,  when  it  was  just 
about  the  bluest  and  blackest — fst!  it  was  as  bright 
as  glory,  and  you'd  have  a  little  glimpse  of  tree- 
tops  a-plunging  about  away  off  yonder  in  the  storm, 
hundreds  of  yards  further  than  you  could  see  before; 
dark  as  sin  again  in  a  second,  and  now  you'd  hear 
the  thunder  let  go  with  an  awful  crash,  and  then  go 
rumbling,  grumbling,  tumbling,  down  the  sky  to- 
wards the  under  side  of  the  world,  like  rolling  empty 

67 


MARK  TWAIN 

barrels  down -stairs— -where  it's  long  stairs  and  they 
bounce  a  good  deal,  you  know. 

"Jim,  this  is  nice,"  I  says.  "X  wouldn't  want  to 
be  nowhere  else  but  here.  Pass  me  along  another 
hunk  of  fish  and  some  hot  corn-bread." 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  'a'  ben  here  'f  it  hadn't  'a' ben 
for  Jim.  You'd  'a'  ben  down  dah  in  de  woods  widout 
any  dinner,  en  gittin'  mos'  drownded,  too;  dat  you 
would,  honey.  Chickens  knows  when  it's  gwyne  to 
rain,  en  so  do  de  birds,  chile." 

The  river  went  on  raising  and  raising  for  ten  or 
twelve  days,  till  at  last  it  was  over  the  banks.  The 
water  was  three  or  four  foot  deep  on  the  island  in 
the  low  places  and  on  the  Illinois  bottom.  On  that 
side  it  was  a  good  many  miles  wide,  but  on  the  Mis- 
souri side  it  was  the  same  old  distance  across — a  half 
a  mile — because  the  Missouri  shore  was  just  a  wall 
of  high  bluffs. 

Daytimes  we  paddled  all  over  the  island  in  the 
canoe.  It  was  mighty  cool  and  shady  in  the  deep 
woods,  even  if  the  sun  was  blazing  outside.  We  went 
winding  in  and  out  amongst  the  trees,  and  sometimes 
the  vines  hung  so  thick  we  had  to  back  away  and 
go  some  other  way.  Well,  on  every  old  broken- 
down  tree  you  could  see  rabbits  and  snakes  and  such 
things;  and  when  the  island  had  been  overflowed  a 
day  or  two  they  got  so  tame,  on  account  of  being 
hungry,  that  you  could  paddle  right  up  and  put  your 
hand  on  them  if  you  wanted  to;  but  not  the  snakes 
and  turtles— they  would  slide  off  in  the  water.  The 
ridge  our  cavern  was  in  was  full  of  them.  We  could 
'a'  had  pets  enough  if  we'd  wanted  them. 

68 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


One  night  we  catched  a  little  section  of  a  lumber- 
raft — nice  pine  planks.  It  was  twelve  foot  wide  and 
about  fifteen  or  sixteen  foot  long,  and  the  top  stood 
above  water  six  or  seven  inches — a  solid,  level  floor. 
We  could  see  saw-logs  go  by  in  the  daylight  some- 
times, but  we  let  them  go;  we  didn't  show  ourselves 
in  daylight. 

Another  night  when  we  was  up  at  the  head  of  the 
island,  just  before  daylight,  here  comes  a  frame- 
house  down,  on  the  west  side.  She  was  a  two-story, 
and  tilted  over  considerable.  We  paddled  out  and 
got  aboard — dumb  in  at  an  up-stairs  window.  But 
it  was  too  dark  to  see  yet,  so  we  made  the  canoe 
fast  and  set  in  her  to  wait  for  daylight. 

The  light  begun  to  come  before  we  got  to  the  foot 
of  the  island.  Then  we  looked  in  at  the  window. 
We  could  make  out  a  bed,  and  a  table,  and  two  old 
chairs,  and  lots  of  things  around  about  on  the  floor, 
and  there  was  clothes  hanging  against  the  wall. 
There  was  something  laying  on  the  floor  in  the  far 
corner  that  looked  like  a  man.    So  Jim  says: 

"Hello,  your 

But  it  didn't  budge.  So  I  hollered  again,  and  then 
Jim  says: 

"De  man  ain't  asleep— he's  dead.  You  hold  still 
— I'll  go  en  see." 

He  went,  and  bent  down  and  looked,  and  says: 

"It's  a  dead  man.  Yes,  indeedy;  naked,  too. 
He's  ben  shot  in  de  back.  I  reck'n  he's  ben  dead 
two  er  three  days.  Come  in,  Huck,  but  doan'  look 
at  his  face — it's  too  gashly." 

I  didn't  look  at  him  at  all.    Jim  throwed  some  old 

SSL 


MARK  TWAIN 


rags  over  him,  but  he  needn't  done  it;  I  didn't  want 
to  see  him.  There  was  heaps  of  old  greasy  cards 
scattered  around  over  the  floor,  and  old  whisky- 
bottles,  and  a  couple  of  masks  made  out  of  black 
cloth ;  and  all  over  the  walls  was  the  ignorantest  kind 
of  words  and  pictures  made  with  charcoal.  There 
was  two  old  dirty  calico  dresses,  and  a  sun-bonnet, 
and  some  women's  underclothes  hanging  against  the 
wall,  and  some  men's  clothing,  too.  We  put  the  lot 
into  the  canoe — it  might  come  good.  There  was  a 
boy's  old  speckled  straw  hat  on  the  floor;  I  took  that, 
too.  And  there  was  a  bottle  that  had  had  milk  in 
it,  and  it  had  a  rag  stopper  for  a  baby  to  suck.  We 
would  'a'  took  the  bottle,  but  it  was  broke.  There 
was  a  seedy  old  chest,  and  an  old  hair  trunk  with  the 
hinges  broke.  They  stood  open,  but  there  warn't 
nothing  left  in  them  that  was  any  account.  The  way 
things  was  scattered  about  we  reckoned  the  people 
left  in  a  hurry,  and  warn't  fixed  so  as  to  carry  off 
most  of  their  stuff. 

We  got  an  old  tin  lantern,  and  a  butcher-knife 
without  any  handle,  and  a  bran-new  Barlow  knife 
worth  two  bits  in  any  store,  and  a  lot  of  tallow 
candles,  and  a  tin  candlestick,  and  a  gourd,  and  a 
tin  cup,  and  a  ratty  old  bedquilt  off  the  bed,  and  a 
reticule  with  needles  and  pins  and  beeswax  and  but- 
tons and  thread  and  all  such  truck  in  it,  and  a 
hatchet  and  some  nails,  and  a  fish-line  as  thick  as 
my  little  finger  with  some  monstrous  hooks  on  it, 
and  a  roll  of  buckskin,  and  a  leather  dog-collar,  and 
a  horseshoe,  and  some  vials  of  medicine  that  didn't 
have  no  label  on  them;  and  just  as  we  was  leaving 

7o 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


I  found  a  tolerable  good  currycomb,  and  Jim  he 
found  a  ratty  old  fiddle-bow,  and  a  wooden  leg. 
The  straps  was  broke  off  of  it,  but,  barring  that,  it 
was  a  good  enough  leg,  though  it  was  too  long  for 
me  and  not  long  enough  for  Jim,  and  we  couldn't 
find  the  other  one,  though  we  hunted  all  around. 

And  so,  take  it  all  around,  we  made  a  good  haul. 
When  we  was  ready  to  shove  off  we  was  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  below  the  island,  and  it  was  pretty  broad 
day;  so  I  made  Jim  lay  down  in  the  canoe  and  cover 
up  with  the  quilt,  because  if  he  set  up  people  could 
tell  he  was  a  nigger  a  good  ways  off.  I  paddled  over 
to  the  Illinois  shore,  and  drifted  down  most  a  half 
a  mile  doing  it.  I  crept  up  the  dead  water  under 
the  bank,  and  hadn't  no  accidents  and  didn't  see 
nobody.    We  got  home  all  safe. 


71 


CHAPTER  X 


FTER  breakfast  I  wanted  to  talk  about  the  dead 


i  \  man  and  guess  out  how  he  come  to  be  killed, 
but  Jim  didn't  want  to.  He  said  it  would  fetch  bad 
luck;  and  besides,  he  said,  he  might  come  and  ha'nt 
us;  he  said  a  man  that  warn't  buried  was  more  likely 
to  go  a-ha'nting  around  than  one  that  was  planted 
and  comfortable.  That  sounded  pretty  reasonable, 
so  I  didn't  say  no  more;  but  I  couldn't  keep  from 
studying  over  it  and  wishing  I  knowed  who  shot  the 
man,  and  what  they  done  it  for. 

We  rummaged  the  clothes  we'd  got,  and  found 
eight  dollars  in  silver  sewed  up  in  the  lining  of  an 
old  blanket  overcoat.  Jim  said  he  reckoned  the 
people  in  that  house  stole  the  coat,  because  if  they'd 
'a'  knowed  the  money  was  there  they  wouldn't  'a'  left 
it.  I  said  I  reckoned  they  killed  him,  too;  but  Jim 
didn't  want  to  talk  about  that,    I  says: 

"Now  you  think  it's  bad  luck;  but  what  did  you 
say  when  I  fetched  in  the  snake-skin  that  I  found 
on  the  top  of  the  ridge  day  before  yesterday?  You 
said  it  was  the  worst  bad  luck  in  the  world  to  touch 
a  snake-skin  with  my  hands.  Well,  here's  your  bad 
luck!  We've  raked  in  all  this  truck  and  eight  dol- 
lars besides.  I  wish  we  could  have  some  bad  luck 
like  this  every  day?  Jim." 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Never  you  mind,  honey,  never  you  mind.  Don't 
you  git  too  peart.  It's  a-comin'o  Mind  I  tell  you, 
it's  a-comin\" 

It  did  come,  too.  It  was  a  Tuesday  that  we  had 
that  talk.  Well,  after  dinner  Friday  we  was  laying 
around  in  the  grass  at  the  upper  end  of  the  ridge,  and 
got  out  of  tobacco.  I  went  to  the  cavern  to  get 
some,  and  found  a  rattlesnake  in  there.  I  killed 
him,  and  curled  him  up  on  the  foot  of  Jim's  blanket, 
ever  so  natural,  thinking  there' d  be  some  fun  when 
Jim  found  him  there.  Well,  by  night  I  forgot  all 
about  the  snake,  and  when  Jim  flung  himself  down 
on  the  blanket  while  I  struck  a  light  the  snake's 
mate  was  there,  and  bit  him. 

He  jumped  up  yelling,  and  the  first  thing  the  light 
showed  was  the  varmint  curled  up  and  ready  for 
another  spring.  I  laid  him  out  in  a  second  with  a 
stick,  and  Jim  grabbed  pap's  whisky-jug  and  begun 
to  pour  it  down. 

He  was  barefooted,  and  the  snake  bit  him  right 
on  the  heel.  That  all  comes  of  my  being  such  a 
fool  as  to  not  remember  that  wherever  you  leave  a 
dead  snake  its  mate  always  comes  there  and  curls 
around  it.  Jim  told  me  to  chop  off  the  snake's 
head  and  throw  it  away,  and  then  skin  the  body  and 
roast  a  piece  of  it.  I  done  it,  and  he  eat  it  and  said 
it  would  help  cure  him.  He  made  me  take  off  the 
rattles  and  tie  them  around  his  wrist,  too.  He  said 
that  that  would  help.  Then  I  slid  out  quiet  and 
thro  wed  the  snakes  clear  away  amongst  the  bushes; 
for  I  warn't  going  to  let  Jim  find  out  it  was  all  my 
fault,  not  if  I  could  help  it. 

73 


MARK  TWAIN 


Jim  sucked  and  sucked  at  the  jug,  and  now  and 
then  he  got  out  of  his  head  and  pitched  around  and 
yelled;  but  every  time  he  come  to  himself  he  went 
to  sucking  at  the  jug  again.  His  foot  swelled  up 
pretty  big,  and  so  did  his  leg;  but  by  and  by  the 
drunk  begun  to  come,  and  so  I  judged  he  was  all 
right;  but  I'd  druther  been  bit  with  a  snake  than 
pap's  whisky. 

Jim  was  laid  up  for  four  days  and  nights.  Then 
the  swelling  was  all  gone  and  he  was  around  again. 
I  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  ever  take  a-holt  of 
a  snake-skin  again  with  my  hands,  now  that  I  see 
what  had  come  of  it.  Jim  said  he  reckoned  I  would 
believe  him  next  time.  And  he  said  that  handling  a 
snake-skin  was  such  awful  bad  luck  that  maybe  we 
hadn't  got  to  the  end  of  it  yet.  He  said  he  druther 
see  the  new  moon  over  his  left  shoulder  as  much  as 
a  thousand  times  than  take  up  a  snake-skin  in  his 
hand.  Well,  I  was  getting  to  feel  that  way  myself, 
though  I've  always  reckoned  that  looking  at  the  new 
moon  over  your  left  shoulder  is  one  of  the  carelessest 
and  foolishest  things  a  body  can  do.  Old  Hank 
Bunker  done  it  once,  and  bragged  about  it;  and  in 
less  than  two  years  he  got  drunk  and  fell  off  of  the 
shot-tower,  and  spread  himself  out  so  that  he  was 
just  a  kind  of  a  layer,  as  you  may  say;  and  they  slid 
him  edgeways  between  two  barn  doors  for  a  coffin, 
and  buried  him  so,  so  they  say,  but  I  didn't  see  it. 
Pap  told  me.  But  anyway  it  all  come  of  looking  at 
the  moon  that  way,  like  a  fool. 

Well,  the  days  went  along,  and  the  river  went 
down  between  its  banks  again;  and  about  the  first 

74 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

thing  we  done  was  to  bait  one  of  the  big  hooks  with 
a  skinned  rabbit  and  set  it  and  catch  a  catfish  that 
was  as  big  as  a  man,  being  six  foot  two  inches  long, 
and  weighed  over  two  hundred  pounds.  We  couldn't 
handle  him,  of  course;  he  would  'a'  flung  us  into 
Illinois.  We  just  set  there  and  watched  him  rip  and 
tear  around  till  he  drownded.  We  found  a  brass 
button  in  his  stomach  and  a  round  ball,  and  lots  of 
rubbage.  We  split  the  ball  open  with  the  hatchet, 
and  there  was  a  spool  in  it.  Jim  said  he'd  had  it 
there  a  long  time,  to  coat  it  over  so  and  make  a 
ball  of  it.  It  was  as  big  a  fish  as  was  ever  catched 
in  the  Mississippi,  I  reckon.  Jim  said  he  hadn't  ever 
seen  a  bigger  one.  He  would  'a'  been  worth  a  good 
deal  over  at  the  village.  They  peddle  out  such  a 
fish  as  that  by  the  pound  in  the  market-house  there; 
everybody  buys  some  of  him;  his  meat's  as  white  as 
snow  and  makes  a  good  fry. 

Next  morning  I  said  it  was  getting  slow  and  dull, 
and  I  wanted  to  get  a  stirring-up  some  way.  I  said 
I  reckoned  I  would  slip  over  the  river  and  find  out 
what  was  going  on.  Jim  liked  that  notion;  but  he 
said  I  must  go  in  the  dark  and  look  sharp.  Then  he 
studied  it  over  and  said,  couldn't  I  put  on  some  of 
them  old  things  and  dress  up  like  a  girl?  That  was 
a  good  notion,  too.  So  we  shortened  up  one  of  the 
calico  gowns,  and  I  turned  up  my  trouser-legs  to  my 
knees  and  got  into  it.  Jim  hitched  it  behind  with 
the  hooks,  and  it  was  a  fair  fit.  I  put  on  the  sun- 
bonnet  and  tied  it  under  my  chin,  and  then  for  a 
body  to  look  in  and  see  my  face  was  like  looking 
down  a  joint  of  stove-pipe.   Jim  said  nobody  would 

75 


MARK  TWAIN 


know  me,  even  in  the  daytime,  hardly.  I  practised 
around  all  day  to  get  the  hang  of  the  things,  and 
by  and  by  I  could  do  pretty  well  in  them,  only  Jim 
said  I  didn't  walk  like  a  girl;  and  he  said  I  must 
quit  pulling  up  my  gown  to  get  at  my  britches- 
pocket.    I  took  notice,  and  done  better. 

I  started  up  the  Illinois  shore  in  the  canoe  just 
after  dark. 

I  started  across  to  the  town  from  a  little  below 
the  ferry-landing,  and  the  drift  of  the  current  fetched 
me  in  at  the  bottom  of  the  town.  I  tied  up  and 
started  along  the  bank.  There  was  a  light  burning 
in  a  little  shanty  that  hadn't  been  lived  in  for  a  long 
time,  and  I  wondered  who  had  took  up  quarters 
there.  I  slipped  up  and  peeped  in  at  the  window. 
There  was  a  woman  about  forty  year  old  in  there 
knitting  by  a  candle  that  was  on  a  pine  table.  I 
didn't  know  her  face;  she  was  a  stranger,  for  you 
couldn't  start  a  face  in  that  town  that  I  didn't  know. 
Now  this  was  lucky,  because  I  was  weakening;  I 
was  getting  afraid  I  had  come;  people  might  know 
my  voice  and  find  me  out.  But  if  this  woman  had 
been  in  such  a  little  town  two  days  she  could  tell 
me  all  I  wanted  to  know;  so  I  knocked  at  the  door, 
and  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  forget  I  was  a  girL 


76 


CHAPTER  XI 


"  /^OME  in,"  says  the  woman,  and  I  did.  She 
says:  "Take  a  cheer." 

I  done  it.  She  looked  me  all  over  with  her  little 
shiny  eyes,  and  says: 

"What  might  your  name  be?" 

"Sarah  Williams." 

"Whereabouts  do  you  live?  In  this  neighbor- 
hood?" 

"No'm.  In  Hooker ville,  seven  mile  below.  I've 
walked  all  the  way  and  I'm  all  tired  out." 

"Hungry,  too,  I  reckon,    I'll  find  you  something." 

"No'm,  I  ain't  hungry.  I  was  so  hungry  I  had 
to  stop  two  miles  below  here  at  a  farm ;  so  I  ain't 
hungry  no  more.  It's  what  makes  me  so  late.  My 
mother's  down  sick,  and  out  of  mone}'  and  every- 
thing, and  I  come  to  tell  my  uncle  Abner  Moore. 
He  lives  at  the  upper  end  of  the  town,  she  says.  I 
hain't  ever  been  here  before.    Do  you  know  him?" 

"No;  but  I  don't  know  everybody  yet.  I  haven't 
lived  here  quite  two  weeks.  It's  a  considerable  ways 
to  the  upper  end  of  the  town.  You  better  stay  here 
all  night.    Take  off  your  bonnet." 

"No,"  I  says;  "I'll  rest  awhile,  I  reckon,  and  go 
on.    I  ain't  afeard  of  the  dark." 

She  said  she  wouldn't  let  me  go  by  myself,  but 

77 


MARK  TWAIN 


her  husband  would  be  in  by  and  by,  maybe  in  a 
hour  and  a  half,  and  she'd  send  him  along  with  me. 
Then  she  got  to  talking  about  her  husband,  and  about 
her  relations  up  the  river,  and  her  relations  down 
the  river,  and  about  how  much  better  off  they  used 
to  was,  and  how  they  didn't  know  but  they'd  made 
a  mistake  coming  to  our  town,  instead  of  letting  well 
alone—and  so  on  and  so  on,  till  I  was  afeard  I  had 
made  a  mistake  coming  to  her  to  find  out  what  was 
going  on  in  the  town;  but  by  and  by  she  dropped  on 
to  pap  and  the  murder,  and  then  I  was  pretty  willing 
to  let  her  clatter  right  along.  She  told  about  me  and 
Tom  Sawyer  finding  the  twelve  thousand  dollars  (only 
she  got  it  twenty)  and  all  about  pap  and  what  a  hard 
lot  he  was,  and  what  a  hard  lot  I  was,  and  at  last 
she  got  down  to  where  I  was  murdered.    I  says : 

"Who  done  it?  We've  heard  considerable  about 
these  goings-on  down  in  Hookerville,  but  we  don't 
know  who  'twas  that  killed  Huck  Finn." 

"Well,  I  reckon  there's  a  right  smart  chance  of 
people  here  that  'd  like  to  know  who  killed  him. 
Some  think  old  Finn  done  it  himself." 

"No— is  that  so?" 

"Most  everybody  thought  it  at  first.  He'll  never 
know  how  nigh  he  come  to  getting  lynched.  But 
before  night  they  changed  around  and  judged  it  was 
done  by  a  runaway  nigger  named  Jim." 

"Why  he—" 

I  stopped.  I  reckoned  I  better  keep  still.  She 
run  on,  and  never  noticed  I  had  put  in  at  all : 

"The  nigger  run  off  the  very  night  Huck  Finn  was 
killed.  So  there's  a  reward  out  for  him — three  hun- 

78 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


dred  dollars.  And  there's  a  reward  out  for  old  Finn, 
too — two  hundred  dollars.  You  see,  he  come  to  town 
the  morning  after  the  murder,  and  told  about  it,  and 
was  out  with  'em  on  the  ferryboat  hunt,  and  right 
away  after  he  up  and  left.  Before  night  they  wanted 
to  lynch  him,  but  he  was  gone,  you  see.  Well,  next 
day  they  found  out  the  nigger  was  gone;  they  found 
out  he  hadn't  ben  seen  sence  ten  o'clock  the  night 
the  murder  was  done.  So  then  they  put  it  on  him, 
you  see;  and  while  they  was  full  of  it,  next  day,  back 
comes  old  Finn,  and  went  boo-hooing  to  Judge 
Thatcher  to  get  money  to  hunt  for  the  nigger  all  over 
Illinois  with.  The  judge  gave  him  some,  and  that 
evening  he  got  drunk,  and  was  around  till  after  mid- 
night with  a  couple  of  mighty  hard-looking  strangers, 
and  then  went  off  with  them.  Well,  he  hain't  come 
back  sence,  and  they  ain't  looking  for  him  back  till 
this  thing  blows  over  a  little,  for  people  thinks  now 
that  he  killed  his  boy  and  fixed  things  so  folks  would 
think  robbers  done  it,  and  then  he'd  get  Huck's 
money  without  having  to  bother  a  long  time  with  a 
lawsuit.  People  do  say  he  warn't  any  too  good  to  do 
it.  Oh,  he's  sly,  I  reckon.  If  he  don't  come  back  for  a 
year  he'll  be  all  right.  You  can't  prove  anything  on 
him,  you  know ;  everything  will  be  quieted  down  then, 
and  he'll  walk  in  Huck's  money  as  easy  as  nothing." 

"Yes,  I  reckon  so,  'm.  I  don't  see  nothing  in  the 
way  of  it.  Has  everybody  quit  thinking  the  nigger 
done  it?" 

"Oh,  no,  not  everybody.  A  good  many  thinks  he 
done  it.  But  they'll  get  the  nigger  pretty  soon  now, 
and  maybe  they  can  scare  it  out  of  him." 

79 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Why,  are  they  after  him  yet?" 

"Well,  you're  innocent,  ain't  you!  Does  three 
hundred  dollars  lay  around  every  day  for  people  to 
pick  up?  Some  folks  think  the  nigger  ain't  far  from 
here.  I'm  one  of  them — but  I  hain't  talked  it  around. 
A  few  days  ago  I  was  talking  with  an  old  couple  that 
lives  next  door  in  the  log  shanty,  and  they  happened 
to  say  hardly  anybody  ever  goes  to  that  island  over 
yonder  that  they  call  Jackson's  Island.  Don't  any- 
body live  there?  says  I.  No,  nobody,  says  they.  I 
didn't  say  any  more,  but  I  done  some  thinking.  I 
was  pretty  near  certain  I'd  seen  smoke  over  there, 
about  the  head  of  the  island,  a  day  or  two  before  that, 
so  I  says  to  myself,  like  as  not  that  nigger's  hiding 
over  there;  anyway,  says  I,  it's  worth  the  trouble  to 
give  the  place  a  hunt.  I  hain't  seen  any  smoke  sence, 
so  I  reckon  maybe  he's  gone,  if  it  was  him;  but 
husband's  going  over  to  see — him  and  another  man. 
He  was  gone  up  the  river;  but  he  got  back  to-day, 
and  I  told  him  as  soon  as  he  got  here  two  hours  ago/' 

I  had  got  so  imeasy  I  couldn't  set  still.  I  had  to  do 
something  with  my  hands;  so  I  took  up  a  needle  off 
of  the  table  and  went  to  threading  it.  My  hands 
shook,  and  I  was  making  a  bad  job  of  it.  When  the 
woman  stopped  talking  I  looked  up,  and  she  was 
looking  at  me  pretty  curious  and  smiling  a  little.  I 
put  down  the  needle  and  thread,  and  let  on  to  be 
interested— and  I  was,  too — and  says: 

"Three  hundred  dollars  is  a  power  of  money.  I 
wish  my  mother  could  get  it.  Is  your  husband  going 
over  there  to-night  ?" 

"Oh,  yes.   He  went  up-town  with  the  man  I  was 

80  ' 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


telling  you  of,  to  get  a  boat  and  see  if  they  could 
borrow  another  gun.  They'll  go  over  after  mid- 
night." 

''Couldn't  they  see  better  if  they  was  to  wait  till 
daytime?" 

"Yes.  And  couldn't  the  nigger  see  better,  too? 
After  midnight  he'll  likely  be  asleep,  and  they  can 
slip  around  through  the  woods  and  hunt  up  his  camp- 
fire  all  the  better  for  the  dark,  if  he's  got  one." 

"I  didn't  think  of  that." 

The  woman  kept  looking  at  me  pretty  curious,  and 
I  didn't  feel  a  bit  comfortable.  Pretty  soon  she  says: 
"What  did  you  say  your  name  was,  honey?" 
"M— Mary  Williams." 

Somehow  it  didn't  seem  to  me  that  I  said  it  was 
Mary  before,  so  I  didn't  look  up — -seemed  to  me  I 
said  it  was  Sarah;  so  I  felt  sort  of  cornered,  and  was 
afeard  maybe  I  was  looking  it,  too.  I  wished  the 
woman  would  say  something  more;  the  longer  she 
set  still  the  uneasier  I  was.  But  now  she  says : 

"Honey,  I  thought  you  said  it  was  Sarah  when 
you  first  come  in?" 

"Oh,  yes'm,  I  did.  Sarah  Mary  Williams.  Sarah's 
my  first  name.  Some  calls  me  Sarah,  some  calls  me 
Mary." 

"Oh,  that's  the  way  of  it?" 

"Yes'm." 

I  was  feeling  better  then,  but  I  wished  I  was  out  of 
there,  anyway.   I  couldn't  look  up  yet. 

Well,  the  woman  fell  to  talking  about  how  hard 
times  was,  and  how  poor  they  had  to  live,  and  how 
the  rats  was  as  free  as  if  they  owned  the  place,  and 

81 


MARK  TWAIN 


so  forth  and  so  on,  and  then  I  got  easy  again.  She 
was  right  about  the  rats.  You'd  see  one  stick  his 
nose  out  of  a  hole  in  the  corner  every  little  while. 
She  said  she  had  to  have  things  handy  to  throw  at 
them  when  she  was  alone,  or  they  wouldn't  give  her 
no  peace.  She  showed  me  a  bar  of  lead  twisted  up 
into  a  knot,  and  said  she  was  a  good  shot  with  it 
generly,  but  she'd  wrenched  her  arm  a  day  or  two 
ago,  and  didn't  know  whether  she  could  throw  true 
now.  But  she  watched  for  a  chance,  and  directly 
banged  away  at  a  rat ;  but  she  missed  him  wide,  and 
said,  "Ouch!"  it  hurt  her  arm  so.  Then  she  told 
me  to  try  for  the  next  one.  I  wanted  to  be  getting 
away  before  the  old  man  got  back,  but  of  course  I 
didn't  let  on.  I  got  the  thing,  and  the  first  rat  that 
showed  his  nose  I  let  drive,  and  if  he'd  'a'  stayed  where 
he  was  he'd  'a'  been  a  tolerable  sick  rat.  She  said  that 
was  first-rate,  and  she  reckoned  I  would  hive  the 
next  one.  She  went  and  got  the  lump  of  lead  and 
fetched  it  back,  and  brought  along  a  hank  of  yarn 
which  she  wanted  me  to  help  her  with.  I  held  up 
my  two  hands  and  she  put  the  hank  over  them,  and 
went  on  talking  about  her  and  her  husband's  matters. 
But  she  broke  off  to  say: 

"Keep  your  eye  on  the  rats.  You  better  have  the 
lead  in  your  lap,  handy." 

So  she  dropped  the  lump  into  my  lap  just  at  that 
moment,  and  I  clapped  my  legs  together  on  it  and 
she  went  on  talking.  But  only  about  a  minute.  Then 
she  took  off  the  hank  and  looked  me  straight  in  the 
face,  and  very  pleasant,  and  says: 

"Come,  now,  what's  your  real  name?" 

82 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Wh-hat,  mum?" 

"What's  your  real  name?  Is  it  Bill,  or  Tom;  or 
Bob?— or  what  is  it?" 

I  reckon  I  shook  like  a  leaf,  and  I  didn't  know 
hardly  what  to  do.   But  I  says: 

"Please  to  don't  poke  fun  at  a  poor  girl  like  me, 
mum.   If  I'm  in  the  way  here,  I'll — " 

"No,  you  won't.  Set  down  and  stay  where  you 
are.  I  ain't  going  to  hurt  you,  and  I  ain't  going  to 
tell  on  you,  nuther.  You  just  tell  me  your  secret, 
and  trust  me.  I'll  keep  it;  and,  what's  more,  I'll 
help  you.  So '11  my  old  man  if  you  want  him  to. 
You  see,  you're  a  runaway  'prentice,  that's  all.  It 
ain't  anything.  There  ain't  no  harm  in  it.  You've 
been  treated  bad,  and  you  made  up  your  mind  to  cut. 
Bless  you,  child,  I  wouldn't  tell  on  you.  Tell  me  all 
about  it' now,  that's  a  good  boy." 

So  I  said  it  wouldn't  be  no  use  to  try  to  play  it  any 
longer,  and  I  would  just  make  a  clean  breast  and 
tell  her  everything,  but  she  mustn't  go  back  on  her 
promise.  Then  I  told  her  my  father  and  mother  was 
dead,  and  the  law  had  bound  me  out  to  a  mean  old 
farmer  in  the  country  thirty  mile  back  from  the 
river,  and  he  treated  me  so  bad  I  couldn't  stand  it 
no  longer;  he  went  away  to  be  gone  a  couple  of  days, 
and  so  I  took  my  chance  and  stole  some  of  his 
daughter's  old  clothes  and  cleared  out,  and  I  had 
been  three  nights  coming  the  thirty  miles.  I  traveled 
nights,  and  hid  daytimes  and  slept,  and  the  bag  of 
bread  and  meat  I  carried  from  home  lasted  me  all 
the  way,  and  I  had  a-plenty.  I  said  I  believed  my 
uncle  Abner  Moore  would  take  care  of  me,  and  so 

83 


MARK  TWAIN 


that  was  why  I  struck  out  for  this  town  of 
Goshen. 

* ' Goshen,  child?  This  ain't  Goshen.  This  is  St. 
Petersburg.  Goshen's  ten  mile  further  up  the  river. 
Who  told  you  this  was  Goshen?" 

"Why,  a  man  I  met  at  daybreak  this  morning,  just 
as  I  was  going  to  turn  into  the  woods  for  my  regular 
sleep.  He  told  me  when  the  roads  forked  I  must 
take  the  right  hand,  and  five  mile  would  fetch  me 
to  Goshen." 

"He  was  drunk,  I  reckon.  He  told  you  just  ex- 
actly wrong." 

"Well,  he  did  act  like  he  was  drunk,  but  it  ain't 
no  matter  now.  I  got  to  be  moving  along.  I'll 
fetch  Goshen  before  daylight." 

* 1  Hold  on  a  minute.  I'll  put  you  up  a  snack  to  eat. 
You  might  want  it." 

So  she  put  me  up  a  snack,  and  says: 

"Say,  when  a  cow's  laying  down,  which  end 
of  her  gets  up  first?  Answer  up  prompt  now — 
don't  stop  to  study  over  it.  Which  end  gets  up 
first?" 

"The  hind  end,  mum." 

"Well,  then,  a  horse?" 

"The  for'rard  end,  mum." 

"Which  side  of  a  tree  does  the  moss  grow  on?" 

"North  side." 

"If  fifteen  cows  is  browsing  on  a  hillside,  how 
many  of  them  eats  with  their  heads  pointed  the  same 
direction?" 

"The  whole  fifteen,  mum." 

"Well,  I  reckon  you  have  lived  in  the  country.  I 

84 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


thought  maybe  you  was  trying  to  hocus  me  again. 
What's  your  real  name,  now?" 
"George  Peters,  mum." 

"Well,  try  to  remember  it,  George.  Don't  forget 
and  tell  me  it's  Elexander  before  you  go,  and  then 
get  out  by  saying  it's  George  Elexander  when  I 
catch  you.  And  don't  go  about  women  in  that  old 
calico.  You  do  a  girl  tolerable  poor,  but  you  might 
fool  men,  maybe.  Bless  you,  child,  when  you  set  out 
to  thread  a  needle  don't  hold  the  thread  still  and  fetch 
the  needle  up  to  it;  hold  the  needle  still  and  poke 
the  thread  at  it;  that's  the  way  a  woman  most 
always  does,  but  a  man  always  does  t'other  way. 
And  when  you  throw  at  a  rat  or  anything,  hitch 
yourself  up  a-tiptoe  and  fetch  your  hand  up  over 
your  head  as  awkward  as  you  can,  and  miss  your 
rat  about  six  or  seven  foot.  Throw  stiff-armed  from 
the  shoulder,  like  there  was  a  pivot  there  for  it  to 
turn  on,  like  a  girl ;  not  from  the  wrist  and  elbow, 
with  your  arm  out  to  one  side,  like  a  boy.  And,  mind 
you,  when  a  girl  tries  to  catch  anything  in  her  lap 
she  throws  her  knees  apart;  she  don't  clap  them 
together,  the  way  you  did  when  you  catched  the 
lump  of  lead.  Why,  I  spotted  you  for  a  boy  when 
you  was  threading  the  needle;  and  I  contrived  the 
other  things  just  to  make  certain.  Now  trot  along  to 
your  uncle,  Sarah  Mary  Williams  George  Elexander 
Peters,  and  if  you  get  into  trouble  you  send  word  to 
Mrs.  Judith  Loftus,  which  is  me,  and  I'll  do  what  I 
can  to  get  you  out  of  it.  Keep  the  river  road  all  the 
way,  and  next  time  you  tramp  take  shoes  and  socks 
with  you.   The  river  road's  a  rocky  one,  and  your 


MARK  TWAIN* 


feet  '11  be  in  a  condition  when  you  get  to  Goshen,  I 
reckon.' ' 

I  went  up  the  bank  about  fifty  yards,  and  then  I 
doubled  on  my  tracks  and  slipped  back  to  where  my 
canoe  was,  a  good  piece  below  the  house.  I  jumped 
in,  and  was  off  in  a  hurry.  I  went  up-stream  far 
enough  to  make  the  head  of  the  island,  and  then 
started  across.  I  took  off  the  sun-bonnet,  for  I  didn't 
want  no  blinders  on  then.  When  I  was  about  the 
middle  I  heard  the  clock  begin  to  strike,  so  I  stops 
and  listens;  the  sound  come  faint  over  the  water  but 
clear — eleven.  When  I  struck  the  head  of  the  island 
I  never  waited  to  blow,  though  I  was  most  winded, 
but  I  shoved  right  into  the  timber  where  my  old 
camp  used  to  be,  and  started  a  good  fire  there  on  a 
high  and  dry  spot. 

Then  I  jumped  in  the  canoe  and  dug  out  for  our 
place,  a  mile  and  a  half  below,  as  hard  as  I  could  go. 
I  landed,  and  slopped  through  the  timber  and  up  the 
ridge  and  into  the  cavern.  There  Jim  laid,  sound 
asleep  on  the  ground.   I  roused  him  out  and  says: 

"Git  up  and  hump  yourself,  Jim!  There  ain't  a 
minute  to  lose.   They're  after  us!" 

Jim  never  asked  no  questions,  he  never  said  a  word ; 
but  the  way  he  worked  for  the  next  half  an  hour 
showed  about  how  he  was  scared.  By  that  time 
everything  we  had  in  the  world  was  on  our  raft,  and 
she  was  ready  to  be  shoved  out  from  the  willow  cove 
where  she  was  hid.  We  put  out  the  camp-fire  at  the 
cavern  the  first  thing,  and  didn't  show  a  candle  out- 
side after  that. 

I  took  the  canoe  out  from  the  shore  a  little  piece, 

86 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

and  took  a  look;  but  if  there  was  a  boat  around  I 
couldn't  see  it,  for  stars  and  shadows  ain't  good  to 
see  by.  Then  we  got  out  the  raft  and  slipped  along 
down  in  the  shade,  past  the  foot  of  the  island  dead 
still — never  saying  a  word. 


87 


CHAPTER  XII 


IT  must  'a*  been  close  on  to  one  o'clock  when  we 
got  below  the  island  at  last,  and  the  raft  did  seem 
to  go  mighty  slow.  If  a  boat  was  to  come  along 
we  was  going  to  take  to  the  canoe  and  break  for  the 
Illinois  shore;  and  it  was  well  a  boat  didn't  come,  for 
we  hadn't  ever  thought  to  put  the  gun  in  the  canoe, 
or  a  fishing-line,  or  anything  to  eat.  We  was  in 
rather  too  much  of  a  sweat  to  think  of  so  many 
things.  It  warn't  good  judgment  to  put  everything 
on  the  raft. 

If  the  men  went  to  the  island  I  just  expect  they 
found  the  camp-fire  I  built,  and  watched  it  all  night 
for  Jim  to  come.  Anyways,  they  stayed  away  from 
us,  and  if  my  building  the  fire  never  fooled  them  it 
warn't  no  fault  of  mine.  I  played  it  as  low  down  on 
them  as  I  could. 

When  the  first  streak  of  day  began  to  show  we  tied 
up  to  a  towhead  in  a  big  bend  on  the  Illinois  side,  and 
hacked  off  cottonwood  branches  with  the  hatchet, 
and  covered  up  the  raft  with  them  so  she  looked  like 
'  there  had  been  a  cave-in  in  the  bank  there.  A  tow- 
head  is  a  sand-bar  that  has  cottonwoods  on  it  as  thick 
as  harrow-teeth. 

We  had  mountains  on  the  Missouri  shore  and 
heavy  timber  on  the  Illinois  side,  and  the  channel 

88 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

was  down  the  Missouri  shore  at  that  place,  so  we 
warn't  afraid  of  anybody  running  across  us.  We 
laid  there  all  day,  and  watched  the  rafts  and  steam- 
boats spin  down  the  Missouri  shore,  and  up-bound 
steamboats  fight  the  big  river  in  the  middle.  I  told 
Jim  all  about  the  time  I  had  jabbering  with  that 
woman;  and  Jim  said  she  was  a  smart  one,  and  if 
she  was  to  start  after  us  herself  she  wouldn't  set 
down  and  watch  a  camp-fire — no,  sir,  she'd  fetch 
a  dog.  Well,  then,  I  said,  why  couldn't  she  tell 
her  husband  to  fetch  a  dog?  Jim  said  he  bet  she 
did  think  of  it  by  the  time  the  men  was  ready  to 
start,  and  he  believed  they  must  'a'  gone  up-town  to 
get  a  dog  and  so  they  lost  all  that  time,  or  else  we 
wouldn't  be  here  on  a  towhead  sixteen  or  seventeen 
mile  below  the  village-— no,  indeedy,  we  would  be  in 
that  same  old  town  again.  So  I  said  I  didn't  care 
what  was  the  reason  they  didn't  get  us  as  long  as  they 
didn't. 

When  it  was  beginning  to  come  on  dark  we  poked 
our  heads  out  of  the  cottonwood  thicket,  and  looked 
up  and  down  and  across;  nothing  in  sight;  so  Jim 
took  up  some  of  the  top  planks  of  the  raft  and  built  a 
snug  wigwam  to  get  under  in  blazing  weather  and 
rainy,  and  to  keep  the  things  dry.  Jim  made  a  floor 
for  the  wigwam,  and  raised  it  a  foot  or  more  above 
the  level  of  the  raft,  so  now  the  blankets  and  all  the 
traps  was  out  of  reach  of  steamboat  waves.  Right 
in  the  middle  of  the  wigwam  we  made  a  layer  of  dirt 
about  five  or  six  inches  deep  with  a  frame  around  it 
for  to  hold  it  to  its  place ;  this  was  to  build  a  fire  on  in 
sloppy  weather  or  chilly;  the  wigwam  would  keep  it 

89 


MARK  TWAIN 


from  being  seen.  We  made  an  extra  steering-oar, 
too,  because  one  of  the  others  might  get  broke  on  a 
snag  or  something.  We  fixed  up  a  short  forked  stick 
to  hang  the  old  lantern  on,  because  we  must  always 
light  the  lantern  whenever  we  see  a  steamboat  coming 
down-stream,  to  keep  from  getting  run  over;  but  we 
wouldn't  have  to  light  it  for  up-stream  boats  unless 
we  see  we  was  in  what  they  call  a  * '  crossing  " ;  for  the 
river  was  pretty  high  yet,  very  low  banks  being  still  a 
little  under  water;  so  up-bound  boats  didn't  always 
run  the  channel,  but  hunted  easy  water. 

This  second  night  we  run  between  seven  and  eight 
hours,  with  a  current  that  was  making  over  four  mile 
an  hour.  We  catched  fish  and  talked,  and  we  took  a 
swim  now  and  then  to  keep  off  sleepiness.  It  was 
kind  of  solemn,  drifting  down  the  big,  still  river,  lay- 
ing on  our  backs  looking  up  at  the  stars,  and  we 
didn't  ever  feel  like  talking  loud,  and  it  warn't  often 
that  we  laughed — only  a  little  kind  of  a  low  chuckle. 
We  had  mighty  good  weather  as  a  general  thing,  and 
nothing  ever  happened  to  us  at  all — that  night,  nor 
the  next,  nor  the  next. 

Every  night  we  passed  towns,  some  of  them  away 
up  on  black  hillsides,  nothing  but  just  a  shiny  bed  of 
lights;  not  a  house  could  you  see.  The  fifth  night  we 
passed  St.  Louis,  and  it  was  like  the  whole  world  lit 
up.  In  St.  Petersburg  they  used  to  say  there  was 
twenty  or  thirty  thousand  people  in  St.  Louis,  but  I 
never  believed  it  till  I  see  that  wonderful  spread  of 
lights  at  two  o'clock  that  still  night.  There  warn't  a 
sound  there;  everybody  was  asleep. 
,  Every  night  now  I  used  to  slip  ashore  toward  ten 

90 


I  PRACTICED  AROUND  ALL  DAY 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

• 

o'clock  at  some  little  village,  and  buy  ten  or  fifteen 
cents'  worth  of  meal  or  bacon  or  other  stuff  to  eat ; 
and  sometimes  I  lifted  a  chicken  that  warn't  roosting 
comfortable,  and  took  him  along.  Pap  always  said, 
take  a  chicken  when  you  get  a  chance,  because  if  you 
don't  want  him  yourself  you  can  easy  find  somebody 
that  does,  and  a  good  deed  ain't  ever  forgot.  I  never 
see  pap  when  he  didn't  want  the  chicken  himself,  but 
that  is  what  he  used  to  say,  anyway. 
|  Mornings  before  daylight  I  slipped  into  corn-fields 
and  borrowed  a  watermelon,  or  a  mushmelon,  or  a 
punkin,  or  some  new  corn,  or  things  of  that  kind. 
Pap  always  said  it  warn't  no  harm  to  borrow  things  if 
you  was  meaning  to  pay  them  back  some  time;  but 
the  widow  said  it  warn't  anything  but  a  soft  name  for 
stealing,  and  no  decent  body  would  do  it.  Jim  said 
he  reckoned  the  widow  was  partly  right  and  pap  was 
partly  right;  so  the  best  way  would  be  for  us  to  pick 
out  two  or  three  things  from  the  list  and  say  we 
wouldn't  borrow  them  any  more — then  he  reckoned 
it  wouldn't  be  no  harm  to  borrow  the  others.  So  we 
talked  it  over  all  one  night,  drifting  along  down  the 
river,  trying  to  make  up  our  minds  whether  to  drop 
the  watermelons,  or  the  cantelopes,  or  the  mush- 
melons,  or  what.  But  toward  daylight  we  got  it  all 
settled  satisfactory,  and  concluded  to  drop  crab- 
apples  and  p'simmons.  We  warn't  feeling  just  right 
before  that,  but  it  was  all  comfortable  now.  I  was 
glad  the  way  it  come  out,  too,  because  crabapples 
ain't  ever  good,  and  the  p'simmons  wouldn't  be  ripe 
lor  two  or  three  months  yet. 

We  shot  a  water-fowl  now  and  then  that  got  up 

91  M.T.-2-4 


MARK  TWAIN 


too  early  in  the  morning  or  didn't  go  to  bed  early 
enough  in  the  evening.  Take  it  all  round,  we  lived 
pretty  high. 

The  fifth  night  below  St.  Louis  we  had  a  big  storm 
after  midnight,  with  a  power  of  thunder  and  light- 
ning, and  the  rain  poured  down  in  a  solid  sheet. 
We  stayed  in  the  wigwam  and  let  the  raft  take  care 
of  itself.  When  the  lightning  glared  out  we  could 
see  a  big  straight  river  ahead,  and  high,  rocky  bluffs 
on  both  sides.  By  and  by  says  I,  "Hel-fo,  Jim, 
looky  yonder!' '  It  was  a  steamboat  that  had  killed 
herself  on  a  rock.  We  was  drifting  straight  down 
for  her.  The  lightning  showed  her  very  distinct. 
She  was  leaning  over,  with  part  of  her  upper  deck 
above  water,  and  you  could  see  every  little  chimbly- 
guy  clean  and  clear,  and  a  chair  by  the  big  bell,  with 
an  old  slouch  hat  hanging  on  the  back  of  it,  when 
the  flashes  come. 

Well,  it  being  away  in  the  night  and  stormy,  and 
all  so  mysterious-like,  I  felt  just  the  way  any  other 
boy  would  'a'  felt  when  I  seen  that  wreck  laying  there 
so  mournful  and  lonesome  in  the  middle  of  the  river. 
I  wanted  to  get  aboard  of  her  and  slink  around  a 
little,  and  see  what  there  was  there.    So  I  says: 

"Le's  land  on  her,  Jim." 

But  Jim  was  dead  against  it  at  first.    He  says; 

"I  doan*  want  to  go  fool'n'  long  er  no  wrack. 
We's  doin'  blame*  well,  en  we  better  let  blame'  well 
alone,  as  de  good  book  says.  Like  as  not  dey's  a 
watchman  on  dat  wrack." 

"Watchman  your  grandmother,"  I  says;  "there 
ain't  nothing  to  watch  but  the  texas  and  the  pilot- 

93 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

house ;  and  do  you  reckon  anybody's  going  to  resk  his 
life  for  a  texas  and  a  pilot-house  such  a  night  as  this, 
when  it's  likely  to  break  up  and  wash  off  down  the 
river  any  minute?"  Jim  couldn't  say  nothing  to 
that,  so  he  didn't  try.  "And  besides,"  I  says,  "we 
might  borrow  something  worth  having  out  of  the 
captain's  stateroom.  Seegars,  I  bet  you — and  cost 
five  cents  apiece,  solid  cash.  Steamboat  captains  is 
always  rich,  and  get  sixty  dollars  a  month,  and  they 
don't  care  a  cent  what  a  thing  costs,  you  know,  long 
as  they  want  it.  Stick  a  candle  in  your  pocket;  I 
can't  rest,  Jim,  till  we  give  her  a  rummaging.  Do 
you  reckon  Tom  Sawyer  would  ever  go  by  this 
thing?  Not  for  pie,  he  wouldn't.  He'd  call  it  an 
adventure — that's  what  he'd  call  it;  and  he'd  land 
on  that  wreck  if  it  was  his  last  act.  And  wouldn't 
he  throw  style  into  it  ? — wouldn't  he  spread  himself, 
nor  nothing?  Why,  you'd  think  it  was  Christopher 
C'lumbus  discovering  Kingdom  Come.  I  wish  Tom 
Sawyer  was  here." 

Jim  he  grumbled  a  little,  but  give  in.  He  said  we 
mustn't  talk  any  more  than  we  could  help,  and  then 
talk  mighty  low.  The  lightning  showed  us  the  wreck 
again  just  in  time,  and  we  fetched  the  stabboard 
derrick,  and  made  fast  there. 

The  deck  was  high  out  here.  We  went  sneaking 
down  the  slope  of  it  to  labboard,  in  the  dark,  towards 
the  texas,  feeling  our  way  slow  with  our  feet,  and 
spreading  our  hands  out  to  fend  off  the  guys,  for  it 
was  so  dark  we  couldn't  see  no  sign  of  them.  Pretty 
soon  we  struck  the  forward  end  of  the  skylight,  and 
dumb  on  to  it;  and  the  next  step  fetched  us  in  front 

93  . 


MARK  TWAIN 


of  the  captain's  door,  which  was  open,  and  by  Jim> 
miny,  away  down  through  the  texas-hall  we  see  a 
light!  and  all  in  the  same  second  we  seem  to  hear 
low  voices  in  yonder! 

Jim  whispered  and  said  he  was  feeling  powerful 
sick,  and  told  me  to  come  along.  I  says,  all  right, 
and  was  going  to  start  for  the  raft;  but  just  then  I 
heard  a  voice  wail  out  and  say : 

' '  Oh,  please  don't,  boys ;  I  swear  I  won't  ever  tell !" 

Another  voice  said,  pretty  loud: 

''It's  a  lie,  Jim  Turner.  You've  acted  this  way 
before.  You  always  want  more'n  your  share  of  the 
truck,  and  you've  always  got  it,  too,  because  you've 
swore  't  if  you  didn't  you'd  tell.  But  this  time 
you've  said  it  jest  one  time  too  many.  You're  the 
meanest,  treacherousest  hound  in  this  country." 

By  this  time  Jim  was  gone  for  the  raft.  I  was 
just  a-biling  with  curiosity;  and  I  says  to  myself, 
Tom  Sawyer  wouldn't  back  out  now,  and  so  I  won't 
either;  I'm  a-going  to  see  what's  going  on  here.  So 
I  dropped  on  my  hands  and  knees  in  the  little 
passage,  and  crept  aft  in  the  dark  till  there  warn't 
but  one  stateroom  betwixt  me  and  the  cross-hall  of 
the  texas.  Then  in  there  I  see  a  man  stretched  on 
the  floor  and  tied  hand  and  foot,  and  two  men  stand- 
ing over  him,  and  one  of  them  had  a  dim  lantern  in 
his  hand,  and  the  other  one  had  a  pistol.  This  one 
kept  pointing  the  pistol  at  the  man's  head  on  the 
floor,  and  saying: 

"I'd  like  to!   And  I  orter,  too — a  mean  skunk!" 

The  man  on  the  floor  would  shrivel  up  and  say, 
"Oh,  please  don't,  Bill;  I  hain't  ever  goin'  to  tell." 

94 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


And  every  time  he  said  that  the  man  with  the 
lantern  would  laugh  and  say : 

'"Deed  you  ain't!  You  never  said  no  truer  thing 
'n  that,  you  bet  you."  And  once  he  said:  "Hear 
him  beg!  and  yit  if  we  hadn't  got  the  best  of  him 
and  tied  him  he'd  'a'  killed  us  both.  And  what  for? 
Jist  for  noth'n'.  Jist  because  we  stood  on  our  rights 
— -that's  what  for.  But  I  lay  you  ain't  a-goin'  to 
threaten  nobody  any  more,  Jim  Turner.  Put  up 
that  pistol,  Bill." 

Bill  says: 

"I  don't  want  to,  Jake  Packard.  I'm  for  killin' 
him — and  didn't  he  kill  old  Hatfield  jist  the  same 
way — and  don't  he  deserve  it?" 

"But  I  don't  want  him  killed,  and  I've  got  my 
reasons  for  it." 

"Bless  yo'  heart  for  them  words,  Jake  Packard! 
I'll  never  forgit  you  long's  I  live!"  says  the  man  on 
the  floor,  sort  of  blubbering. 

Packard  didn't  take  no  notice  of  that,  but  hung 
up  his  lantern  on  a  nail  and  started  toward  where 
I  was,  there  in  the  dark,  and  motioned  Bill  to  come. 
I  crawfished  as  fast  as  I  could  about  two  yards,  but 
the  boat  slanted  so  that  I  couldn't  make  very  good 
time;  so  to  keep  from  getting  run  over  and  catched 
I  crawled  into  a  stateroom  on  the  upper  side.  The 
man  came  a-pawing  along  in  the  dark,  and  when 
Packard  got  to  my  stateroom,  he  says: 

"Here — come  in  here." 

And  in  he  come,  and  Bill  after  him.  But  before 
they  got  in  I  was  up  in  the  upper  berth,  cornered, 
and  sorry  I  come.    Then  they  stood  there,  with 

95 


MARK  TWAIN 


their  hands  on  the  ledge  of  the  berth,  and  talked. 
I  couldn't  see  them,  but  I  could  tell  where  they  was 
by  the  whisky  they'd  been  having.  I  was  glad  I 
didn't  drink  whisky;  but  it  wouldn't  made  much 
difference  anyway,  because  most  of  the  time  they 
couldn't  'a'  treed  me  because  I  didn't  breathe.  I 
was  too  scared.  And,  besides,  a  body  couldn't 
breathe  and  hear  such  talk.  They  talked  low  and 
earnest.   Bill  wanted  to  kill  Turner.   He  says: 

"He's  said  he'll  tell,  and  he  will.  If  we  was  to 
give  both  our  shares  to  him  now  it  wouldn't  make 
no  difference  after  the  row  and  the  way  we've  served 
him.  Shore's  you're  born,  he'll  turn  state's  evi- 
dence; now  you  hear  me,  I'm  for  putting  him  out 
of  his  troubles." 

"So'm  I,'*  says  Packard,  very  quiet. 

"Blame  it,  I'd  sorter  begun  to  think  you  wasn't. 
Well,  then,  that's  all  right.    Le's  go  and  do  it." 

"Hold  on  a  minute;  I  hain't  had  my  say  yit.  You 
listen  to  me.  Shooting's  good,  but  there's  quieter 
ways  if  the  things  got  to  be  done.  But  what  I  say 
is  this:  it  ain't  good  sense  to  go  court'n'  around  after 
a  halter  if  you  can  git  at  what  you're  up  to  in  some 
way  that's  jist  as  good  and  at  the  same  time  don't  - 
bring  you  into  no  resks.    Ain't  that  so?" 

"You  bet  it  is.  But  how  you  goin'  to  manage  it 
this  time?" 

"Well,  my  idea  is  this:  we'll  rustle  around  and 
gather  up  whatever  pickin's  we've  overlooked  in  the 
staterooms,  and  shove  for  shore  and  hide  the  truck. 
Then  we'll  wait.  Now  I  say  it  ain't  a-goin'  to  be 
more'n  two  hours  befo'  this  wrack  breaks  up  and 

96 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


washes  off  down  the  river.  See?  He'll  be  drownded, 
and  won't  have  nobody  to  blame  for  it  but  his  own 
self.  I  reckon  that's  a  considerable  sight  better  'n 
killin'  of  him.  I'm  unfavorable  to  killin'  a  man  as 
long  as  you  can  git  aroun'  it;  it  ain't  good  sense,  it 
ain't  good  morals.    Ain't  I  light?" 

"Yes,  I  reck'n  you  are.  But  s'pose  she  don't 
break  up  and  wash  off?" 

"Well,  we  can  wait  the  two  hours  anyway  and 
see,  can't  we?" 

"All  right,  then;  come  along." 

So  they  started,  and  I  lit  out,  all  in  a  cold  sweat, 
and  scrambled  forward.  It  was  dark  as  pitch  there; 
but  I  said,  in  a  kind  of  a  coarse  whisper,  "  Jim!"  and 
he  answered  up,  right  at  my  elbow,  with  a  sort  of  a 
moan,  and  I  says: 

"Quick,  Jim,  it  ain't  no  time  for  fooling  around 
and  moaning;  there's  a  gang  of  murderers  in  yonder, 
and  if  we  don't  hunt  up  their  boat  and  set  her 
drifting  down  the  river  so  these  fellows  can't  get 
away  from  the  wreck  there's  one  of  'em  going  to  be 
in  a  bad  fix.  But  if  we  find  their  boat  we  can  put 
all  of  'em  in  a  bad  fix — for  the  sheriff  '11  get  'em. 
Quick — hurry !  I'll  hunt  the  labboard  side,  you  hunt 
the  stabboard.    You  start  at  the  raft,  and — " 

"Oh,  my  lordy,  lordy!  Raff  Dey  am'  no  raf* 
no  mo';  she  done  broke  loose  en  gone!—en  here 
we  is!" 


97 


CHAPTER  XIII 


WELL,  I  catched  my  breath  and  most  fainted. 
Shut  up  on  a  wreck  with  such  a  gang  as  that ! 
But  it  warn't  no  time  to  be  sentimentering.  We'd 
got  to  find  that  boat  now — had  to  have  it  for  our- 
selves. So  we  went  a-quaking  and  shaking  down  the 
stabboard  side,  and  slow  work  it  was,  too — seemed 
a  week  before  we  got  to  the  stern.  No  sign  of  a  boat. 
Jim  said  he  didn't  believe  he  could  go  any  farther — • 
so  scared  he  hadn't  hardly  any  strength  left,  he  said. 
But  I  said,  come  on,  if  we  get  left  on  this  wreck  we 
are  in  a  fix,  sure.  So  on  we  prowled  again.  We 
struck  for  the  stern  of  the  texas,  and  found  it,  and 
then  scrabbled  along  forwards  on  the  skylight,  hang- 
ing on  from  shutter  to  shutter,  for  the  edge  of  the 
skylight  was  in  the  water.  When  we  got  pretty  close 
to  the  cross-hall  door  there  was  the  skiff,  sure  enough! 
I  could  just  barely  see  her.  I  felt  ever  so  thankful. 
In  another  second  I  would  'a'  been  aboard  of  her,  but 
just  then  the  door  opened.  One  of  the  men  stuck 
his  head  out  only  about  a  couple  of  foot  from  me, 
and  I  thought  I  was  gone;  but  he  jerked  it  in  again, 
and  says : 

"Heave  that  blame  lantern  out  o*  sight,  Bill!" 
He  flung  a  bag  of  something  into  the  boat,  and  then 
got  in  himself  and  set  down.  It  was  Packard.  Then 

98 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Bill  he  come  out  and  got  in.  Packard  says,  in  a  low 
voice: 

"All  ready—shove  off!" 

I  couldn't  hardly  hang  on  to  the  shutters,  I  was  so 
weak.  But  Bill  says: 

"Hold  on — 'd  you  go  through  him?" 
^'No.   Didn't  you?" 

'"No.   So  he's  got  his  share  o'  the  cash  yet." 

"Well,  then,  come  along;  no  use  to  take  truck  and 
leave  money." 

"Say,  won't  he  suspicion  what  we're  up  to?" 

"Maybe  he  won't.  But  we  got  to  have  it  anyway. 
Come  along." 

So  they  got  out  and  went  in. 

The  door  slammed  to  because  it  was  on  the 
careened  side;  and  in  a  half  second  I  was  in  the  boat, 
and  Jim  come  tumbling  after  me.  I  out  with  my 
knife  and  cut  the  rope,  and  away  we  went ! 

We  didn't  touch  an  oar,  and  we  didn't  speak  nor 
whisper,  nor  hardly  even  breathe.  We  went  gliding 
swift  along,  dead  silent,  past  the  tip  of  the  paddle- 
box,  and  past  the  stern ;  then  in  a  second  or  two  more 
we  was  a  hundred  yards  below  the  wreck,  and  the 
darkness  soaked  her  up,  every  last  sign  of  her,  and  we 
was  safe,  and  knowed  it. 

When  we  was  three  or  four  hundred  yards  down- 
stream we  see  the  lantern  show  like  a  little  spark  at 
the  texas  door  for  a  second,  and  we  knowed  by  that 
that  the  rascals  had  missed  their  boat,  and  was 
beginning  to  understand  that  they  was  in  just  as 
much  trouble  now  as  Jim  Turner  was. 

Then  Jim  manned  the  oars,  and  we  took  out  after 

99 


MARK  TWAIN 


our  raft.  Now  was  the  first  time  that  I  begun  to 
worry  about  the  men— I  reckon  I  hadn't  had  time 
to  before.  I  begun  to  think  how  dreadful  it  was,  even 
for  murderers,  to  be  in  such  a  fix.  I  says  to  myself, 
there  ain't  no  telling  but  I  might  come  to  be  a  mur- 
derer myself  yet-  and  then  how  would  I  like  it?  So 
says  I  to  Jim: 

"The  first  light  we  see  we'll  land  a  hundred  yards 
below  it  or  above  it,  in  a  place  where  it's  a  good 
hiding-place  for  you  and  the  skiff,  and  then  I'll  go 
and  fix  up  some  kind  of  a  yarn,  and  get  somebody 
to  go  for  that  gang  and  get  them  out  of  their  scrape, 
so  they  can  be  hung  when  their  time  comes." 

But  that  idea  was  a  failure;  for  pretty  soon  it 
begun  to  storm  again,  and  this  time  worse  than  ever. 
The  rain  poured  down,  and  never  a  light  showed; 
everybody  in  bed,  I  reckon.  We  boomed  along  down 
the  river,  watching  for  lights  and  watching  for  our 
raft.  After  a  long  time  the  rain  let  up,  but  the  clouds 
stayed,  and  the  lightning  kept  whimpering,  and  by 
and  by  a  flash  showed  us  a  black  thing  ahead,  floating, 
and  we  made  for  it. 

It  was  the  raft,  and  mighty  glad  was  we  to  get 
aboard  of  it  again.  We  seen  a  light  now  away  down 
to  the  right,  on  shore.  So  I  said  I  would  go  for  it. 
The  skiff  was  half  full  of  plunder  which  that  gang  had 
stole  there  on  the  wreck.  We  hustled  it  on  to  the  raft 
in  a  pile,  and  I  told  Jim  to  float  along  down,  and  show 
a  light  when  he  judged  he  had  gone  about  two  mile, 
and  keep  it  burning  till  I  come;  then  I  manned  my 
oars  and  shoved  for  the  light.  As  I  got  down  towards 
it  three  or  four  more  showed— up  on  a  hillside.  It 

ioo 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


was  a  village.  I  closed  in  above  the  shore  light,  and 
laid  on  my  oars  and  floated.  As  I  went  by  I  see  it 
was  a  lantern  hanging  on  the  jackstaff  of  a  double- 
hull  ferryboat.  I  skimmed  around  for  the  watchman, 
a- wondering  whereabouts  he  slept;  and  by  and  by  I 
found  him  roosting  on  the  bitts  forward,  with  his  head 
down  between  his  knees.  I  gave  his  shoulder  two  or 
three  little  shoves,  and  begun  to  cry. 

He  stirred  up  in  a  kind  of  a  startlish  way ;  but  when 
he  see  it  was  only  me  he  took  a  good  gap  and  stretch, 
and  then  he  says : 

" Hello,  what's  up?  Don't  cry,  bub.  What's  the 
trouble?" 

I  says: 

"Pap,  and  mam,  and  sis,  and — " 

Then  I  broke  down.   He  says: 

"Oh,  dang  it  now,  don't  take  on  so;  we  all  has  to 
have  our  troubles,  and  this  'n  '11  come  out  ail  right. 
What's  the  matter  with  'em?" 

"They're— they're — are  you  the  watchman  of  the 
boat?" 

"Yes,"  he  says,  kind  of  pretty- well-satisfied  like. 
"I'm  the  captain  and  the  owner  and  the  mate  and  the 
pilot  and  watchman  and  head  deck-hand ;  and  some- 
times I'm  the  freight  and  passengers.  I  ain't  as  rich 
as  old  Jim  Hornback,  and  I  can't  be  so  blame'  gen- 
erous and  good  to  Tom,  Dick,  and  Harry  as  what  he 
is,  and  slam  around  money  the  way  he  does;  but  I've 
told  him  a  many  a  time  't  I  wouldn't  trade  places 
with  him;  for,  says  I,  a  sailor's  life's  the  life  for  me, 
and  I'm  derned  if  Td  live  two  mile  out  o'  town, 
where  there  ain't  nothing  ever  goin'  on,  not  for 

IOI 


MARK  TWAIN 


all  his  spondulicks  and  as  much  more  on  top  of  it. 
Says  I—" 

I  broke  in  and  says: 

"They're  in  an  awful  peck  of  trouble,  and — " 
"Who  is?" 

"Why,  pap  and  mam  and  sis  and  Miss  Hooker; 
and  if  you'd  take  your  ferryboat  and  go  up  there — " 
"Up  where?  Where  are  they?" 
"On  the  wreck." 
"What  wreck?" 
"Why,  there  ain't  but  one." 
"What,  you  don't  mean  the  Walter  Scott?" 
"Yes." 

"Good  land!  what  are  they  doin'  there,  for  gracious 
sakes?" 

"Well,  they  didn't  go  there  a-purpose." 

"I  bet  they  didn't!  Why,  great  goodness,  there 
ain't  no  chance  for  'em  if  they  don't  git  off  mighty 
quick!  Why,  how  in  the  nation  did  they  ever  git 
into  such  a  scrape?" 

"Easy  enough.  Miss  Hooker  was  a- visiting  up 
there  to  the  town — " 

"Yes,  Booth's  Landing — go  on." 

"She  was  a- visiting  there  at  Booth's  Landing,  and 
just  in  the  edge  of  the  evening  she  started  over  with 
her  nigger  woman  in  the  horse-ferry  to  stay  all 
night  at  her  friend's  house,  Miss  What-you-may-call- 
her — I  disremember  her  name — and  they  lost  their 
steering-oar,  and  swung  around  and  went  a-floating 
down,  stern  first,  about  two  mile,  and  saddle-baggsed 
on  the  wreck,  and  the  ferryman  and  the  nigger 
woman  and  the  horses  was  all  lost,  but  Miss  Hooker 

102 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


she  made  a  grab  and  got  aboard  the  wreck.  Well, 
about  an  hour  after  dark  we  come  along  down  in  our 
trading-scow,  and  it  was  so  dark  we  didn't  notice 
the  wreck  till  we  was  right  on  it;  and  so  we  saddle- 
baggsed;  but  all  of  us  was  saved  but  Bill  Whipple — 
and  oh,  he  was  the  best  cretur! — I  most  wish  't  it 
had  been  me,  I  do." 

"My  George!  It's  the  beatenest  thing  I  ever 
struck.    And  then  what  did  you  all  do?" 

"Well,  we  hollered  and  took  on,  but  it's  so  wide 
there  we  couldn't  make  nobody  hear.  So  pap  said 
somebody  got  to  get  ashore  and  get  help  somehow. 
I  was  the  only  one  that  could  swim,  so  I  made  a 
dash  for  it,  and  Miss  Hooker  she  said  if  I  didn't 
strike  help  sooner,  come  here  and  hunt  up  her  uncle, 
and  he'd  fix  the  thing.  I  made  the  land  about  a 
mile  below,  and  been  fooling  along  ever  since,  trying 
to  get  people  to  do  something,  but  they  said,  'What, 
in  such  a  night  and  such  a  current?  There  ain't  no 
sense  in  it;  go  for  the  steam-ferry.'  Now  if  you'll 
go  and — " 

"By  Jackson,  I'd  like  to,  and,  blame  it,  I  don't 
know  but  I  will ;  but  who  in  the  dingnation's  a-going 
to  pay  for  it?    Do  you  reckon  your  pap—" 

"Why  that's  all  right.  Miss  Hooker  she  tole  me, 
particular,  that  her  uncle  Hornback — " 

"Great  guns!  is  he  her  uncle?  Looky  here,  you 
break  for  that  light  over  yonder-way,  and  turn  out 
west  when  you  git  there,  and  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  out  you'll  come  to  the  tavern;  tell  'em  to  dart 
you  out  to  Jim  Hornback's,  and  he'll  foot  the  bill. 
And  don't  you  fool  around  any,  because  he'll  want 

103 


MARK  TWAIN 


to  know  the  news.  Tell  him  I'll  have  his  niece  all 
safe  before  he  can  get  to  town.  Hump  yourself, 
now;  I'm  a-going  up  around  the  corner  here  to  roust 
out  my  engineer." 

I  struck  for  the  light,  but  as  soon  as  he  turned  the 
corner  I  went  back  and  got  into  my  skiff  and  bailed 
her  out,  and  then  pulled  up  shore  in  the  easy  water 
about  six  hundred  yards,  and  tucked  myself  in 
among  some  wood-boats;  for  I  couldn't  rest  easy  till 
I  could  see  the  ferryboat  start.  But  take  it  all 
around,  I  was  feeling  ruther  comfortable  on  accounts 
of  taking  all  this  trouble  for  that  gang,  for  not 
many  would  'a'  done  it.  I  wished  the  widow  knowed 
about  it.  I  judged  she  would  be  proud  of  me  for 
helping  these  rapscallions,  because  rapscallions  and 
dead-beats  is  the  kind  the  widow  and  good  people 
takes  the  most  interest  in. 

Well,  before  long  here  comes  the  wreck,  dim  and 
dusky,  sliding  along  down!  A  kind  of  cold  shiver 
went  through  me,  and  then  I  struck  out  for  her. 
She  was  very  deep,  and  I  see  in  a  minute  there  warn't 
much  chance  for  anybody  being  alive  in  her.  I 
pulled  all  around  her  and  hollered  a  little,  but  there 
wasn't  any  answer;  all  dead  still.  I  felt  a  little  bit 
heavy-hearted  about  the  gang,  but  not  much,  for 
I  reckoned  if  they  could  stand  it  I  could. 

Then  here  comes  the  ferryboat ;  so  I  shoved  for  the 
middle  of  the  river  on  a  long  down-stream  slant ;  and 
when  I  judged  I  was  out  of  eye-reach  I  laid  on  my 
oars,  and  looked  back  and  see  her  go  and  smell 
around  the  wreck  for  Miss  Hooker's  remainders, 
because  the  captain  would  know  her  uncle  Hornback 

104 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


would  want  them;  and  then  pretty  soon  the  ferryboat 
give  it  up  and  went  for  the  shore,  and  I  laid  into  my 
work  and  went  a-booming  down  the  river. 

It  did  seem  a  powerful  long  time  before  Jim's 
light  showed  up;  and  when  it  did  show  it  looked  like 
it  was  a  thousand  mile  off.  By  the  time  I  got  there 
the  sky  was  beginning  to  get  a  little  gray  in  the 
east;  so  we  struck  for  an  island,  and  hid  the  raft,  and 
sunk  the  skiff,  and  turned  in  and  slept  like  dead 
people. 


105 


CHAPTER  XIV 


BY  and  by,  when  we  got  up,  we  turned  over  the 
truck  the  gang  had  stole  off  of  the  wreck,  and 
found  boots,  and  blankets,  and  clothes,  and  all  sorts 
of  other  things,  and  a  lot  of  books,  and  a  spy-glass, 
and  three  boxes  of  seegars.  We  hadn't  ever  been 
this  rich  before  in  neither  of  our  lives.  The  seegars 
was  prime.  We  laid  off  all  the  afternoon  in  the 
woods  talking,  and  rne  reading  the  books,  and  having 
a  general  good  time.  I  told  Jim  all  about  what  hap- 
pened inside  the  wreck  and  at  the  ferryboat,  and  I 
said  these  kinds  of  things  was  adventures;  but  he 
said  he  didn't  want  no  more  adventures.  He  said 
that  when  I  went  in  the  texas  and  he  crawled  back 
to  get  on  the  raft  and  found  her  gone  he  nearly  died, 
because  he  judged  it  was  all  up  with  him  anyway  it 
could  be  fixed;  for  if  he  didn't  get  saved  he  would 
get  drownded;  and  if  he  did  get  saved,  whoever 
saved  him  would  send  him  back  home  so  as  to  get 
the  reward,  and  then  Miss  Watson  would  sell  him 
South,  sure.  Well,  he  was  right ;  he  was  most  always 
right;  he  had  an  uncommon  level  head  for  a  nigger. 

I  read  considerable  to  Jim  about  kings  and  dukes 
and  earls  and  such,  and  how  gaudy  they  dressed,  and 
how  much  style  they  put  on,  and  called  each  other 
your  majesty,  and  your  grace,  and  your  lordship, 

106 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


and  so  on,  'stead  of  mister;  and  Jim's  eyes  bugged 
out,  and  he  was  interested.    He  says: 

"I  didn'  know  dey  was  so  many  un  urn.  I  hain't 
hearn  'bout  none  un  urn,  skasely,  but  ole  King  Sol- 
lermun,  onless  you  counts  dem  kings  dat's  in  a  pack 
er  k'yards.    How  much  do  a  king  git?" 

"Get?"  I  says;  "why,  they  get  a  thousand  dollars 
a  month  if  they  want  it;  they  can  have  just  as  much 
as  they  want;  everything  belongs  to  them." 

"Ain'  dat  gay?   En  what  dey  got  to  do,  Huck?" 

"They  don't  do  nothing!  Why,  how  you  talk! 
They  just  set  around." 

"No;  is  dat  so?" 

"Of  course  it  is.  They  just  set  around — except, 
maybe,  when  there's  a  war;  then  they  go  to  the  war. 
But  other  times  they  just  lazy  around;  or  go  hawking 
— just  hawking  and  sp —  Sh ! — d'you  hear  a  noise  ?" 

We  skipped  out  and  looked;  but  it  warn't  nothing 
but  the  flutter  of  a  steamboat's  wheel  away  down,, 
coming  around  the  point;  so  we  come  back. 

"Yes,"  says  I,  "and  other  times,  when  things  is 
dull,  they  fuss  with  the  parlyment;  and  if  everybody 
don't  go  just  so  he  whacks  their  heads  off.  But 
mostly  they  hang  round  the  harem." 

"Roun'  de  which?" 

"Harem." 

"What's  de  harem?" 

"The  place  where  he  keeps  his  wives.  Don't  you 
know  about  the  harem?  Solomon  had  one;  he  had 
about  a  million  wives." 

"Why,  yes,  dat's  so;  I — I'd  done  forgot  it.  A 
harem's  a  bo'd'n-house,  I  reck'n.    Mos*  likely  dey 

107 


MARK  TWAIN 


has  rackety  times  in  de  nussery.  En  I  reck'n  de 
wives  quarrels  considable;  en  dat  'crease  de  racket. 
Yit  dey  say  Sollermun  de  wises*  man  dat  ever  live'. 
I  doan'  take  no  stock  in  dat.  Bekase  why:  would  a 
wise  man  want  to  live  in  de  mids'  er  sich  a  blim- 
blammin'  all  de  time?  No— 'deed  he  wouldn't.  A 
wise  man  ?ud  take  en  bun"  a  biler-f  actry ;  en  den  he 
could  shet  down  de  biler-f  actry  when  he  want  to  res'." 

"Well,  but  he  was  the  wisest  man,  anyway;  be- 
cause the  widow  she  told  me  so,  her  own  self." 

"  I  doan'  k'yer  what  de  widder  say,  he  warn't  no 
wise  man  rmther.  He  had  some  er  de  dad-fetchedes' 
ways  I  ever  see.  Does  you  know  'bout  dat  chile 
dat  he  'uz  gwyne  to  chop  in  two?" 

"Yes,  the  widow  told  me  all  about  it." 

"Well,  den!  Warn'  dat  de  beatenes'  notion  in  de 
worl'  ?  You  jes'  take  en  look  at  it  a  minute.  Dah's 
de  stump,  dah — dat's  one  er  de  women;  heah's  you 
—-dat's  de  yuther  one;  I's  Sollermun;  en  dish  yer 
dollar  bill's  de  chile.  Bofe  un  you  claims  it.  What 
does  I  do?  Does  I  shin  aroun'  mongs'  de  neighbors 
en  fine  out  which  un  you  de  bill  do  b'long  to,  en  han' 
it  over  to  de  right  one,  all  safe  en  soun',  de  way  dat 
anybody  dat  had  any  gumption  would?  No;  I  take 
en  whack  de  bill  in  two,  en  give  half  un  it  to  you, 
en  de  yuther  half  to  de  yuther  woman.  Dat's  de 
way  Sollermun  was  gwyne  to  do  wid  de  chile.  Now 
I  want  to  ast  you:  what's  de  use  er  dat  half  a  bill? — 
can't  buy  noth'n  wid  it.  En  what  use  is  a  half  a 
chile?    I  wouldn'  give  a  dern  for  a  million  un  urn." 

"But  hang  it,  Jim,  you've  clean  missed  the  point 
— blame  it,  you've  missed  it  a  thousand  mile." 

108 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Who?  Me?  Go  long.  Doan'  talk  to  me  'bout 
yo'  pints.  I  reck'n  I  knows  sense  when  I  sees  it; 
en  dey  am'  no  sense  in  sich  doin's  as  dat.  De  'spute 
warn't  'bout  a  half  a  chile,  de  'spute  was  'bout  a 
whole  chile;  en  de  man  dat  think  he  kin  settle  a 
'spute  'bout  a  whole  chile  wid  a  half  a  chile  doan* 
know  enough  to  come  in  out'n  de  rain.  Doan'  talk  to 
me  'bout  Sollermun,  Huck,  I  knows  him  by  de  back." 

"But  I  tell  you  you  don't  get  the  point." 

' f  Blame  de  point !  I  reck'n  I  knows  what  I  knows* 
En  mine  you,  de  real  pint  is  down  furder — it's  down 
deeper.  It  lays  in  de  way  Sollermun  was  raised. 
You  take  a  man  dat's  got  on'y  one  or  two  chillen;  is 
dat  man  gwyne  to  be  waseful  o'  chillen?  No,  he 
ain't ;  he  can't  'ford  it.  He  know  how  to  value  'em. 
But  you  take  a  man  dat's  got  'bout  five  million 
chillen  runnin'  roun'  de  house,  en  it's  diffunt.  He 
as  soon  chop  a  chile  in  two  as  a  cat.  Dey's  plenty 
mo'.  A  chile  er  two,  mo'  er  less,  warn't  no  consekens 
to  Sollermun,  dad  fetch  him!" 

I  never  see  such  a  nigger.  If  lie  got  a  notion  in 
his  head  once,  there  warn't  no  getting  it  out  again. 
He  was  the  most  down  on  Solomon  of  any  nigger  I 
ever  see.  So  I  went  to  talking  about  other  kings, 
and  let  Solomon  slide.  I  told  about  Louis  Sixteenth 
that  got  his  head  cut  off  in  France  long  time  ago; 
and  about  his  little  boy  the  dolphin,  that  would  'a* 
been  a  king,  but  they  took  and  shut  him  up  in  jail, 
and  some  say  he  died  there. 

"Po'  little  chap." 

"But  some  says  he  got  out  and  got  away*  and 
come  to  America." 

i©0 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Dat's  good!  But  he'll  be  pooty  lonesome — dey 
am'  no  kings  here,  is  dey,  thick?" 
"No." 

"Den  he  cain't  git  no  situation.  What  he  gwyne 
to  do?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  Some  of  them  gets  on  the 
police,  and  some  of  them  learns  people  how  to  talk 
French." 

"Why,  Huck,  doan'  de  French  people  talk  de 
same  way  we  does?" 

"No,  Jim;  you  couldn't  understand  a  word  they 
said — not  a  single  word." 

"Well,  now,  I  be  ding-busted?  How  do  dat 
come?" 

"I  don't  know;  but  it's  so.  I  got  some  of  their 
jabber  out  of  a  book.  S'pose  a  man  was  to  come 
to  you  and  say  Polly -voo-franzy — what  would  you 
think?" 

"I  wouldn'  think  nu&n;  I'd  take  en  bust  him 
over  de  head— -dat  is,  if  he  warn't  white.  I  wouldn't 
'low  no  nigger  to  call  me  dat." 

"Shucks,  it  ain't  calling  you  anything.  It's  only 
saying,  do  you  know  how  to  talk  French?" 

"Well,  den,  why  couldn't  he  say  it?" 

"Why,  he  is  a-saying  it.  That's  a  Frenchman's 
way  of  saying  it." 

"Well,  it's  a  blame  ridicklous  way,  en  I  doan'  want 
to  hear  no  mo'  'bout  it.    Dey  ain'  no  sense  in  it.'* 

"Looky  here,  Jim;  does  a  cat  talk  Hke  we  do?" 

"No,  a  cat  don't." 

"Well,  does  a  cow?" 

"No,  a  cow  don't,  nuther.™ 

no 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Does  a  cat  talk  like  a  cow,  or  a  cow  talk  like 
a  cat?" 

"No,  dey  don't." 

"It's  natural  and  right  for  'em  to  talk  different 
from  each  other,  ain't  it?" 
"Course." 

"And  ain't  it  natural  and  right  for  a  cat  and  a 
cow  to  talk  different  from  us?" 
"Why,  mos'  sholy  it  is." 

"Well,  then,  why  ain't  it  natural  and  right  for  a 
Frenchman  to  talk  different  from  us?  You  answer 
me  that." 

"Is  a  cat  a  man,  Huck?" 

"No." 

"Well,  den,  dey  ain't  no  sense  in  a  cat  talkin'  like 
a  man.    Is  a  cow  a  man? — er  is  a  cow  a  cat?" 

"No,  she  ain't  either  of  them." 

"Well,  den,  she  ain't  got  no  business  to  talk  like 
either  one  er  the  yuther  of  'em.  Is  a  Frenchman 
a  man?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  den!  Dad  blame  it,  why  doan'  he  talk  like 
a  man  ?   You  answer  me  dot ! ' ' 

I  see  it  warn't  no  use  wasting  words — you  can't 
learn  a  nigger  to  argue.    So  I  quit. 


in 


CHAPTER  XV 


WE  judged  that  three  nights  more  would  fetch 
us  to  Cairo,  at  the  bottom  of  Illinois,  where 
the  Ohio  River  comes  in,  and  that  was  what  we  was 
after.  We  would  sell  the  raft  and  get  on  a  steam- 
boat and  go  way  up  the  Ohio  amongst  the  free 
states,  and  then  be  out  of  trouble. 

Well,  the  second  night  a  fog  begun  to  come  on,  and 
we  made  for  a  towhead  to  tie  to,  for  it  wouldn't  do 
to  try  to  run  in  a  fog;  but  when  I  paddled  ahead  in 
the  canoe,  with  the  line  to  make  fast,  there  wam't 
anything  but  little  saplings  to  tie  to.  I  passed  the 
line  around  one  of  them  right  on  the  edge  of  the  cut 
bank,  but  there  was  a  stiff  current,  and  the  raft 
come  booming  down  so  lively  she  tore  it  out  by  the 
roots  and  away  she  went.  I  see  the  fog  closing 
down,  and  it  made  me  so  sick  and  scared  I  couldn't 
budge  for  most  a  half  a  minute  it  seemed  to  me — 
and  then  there  warn't  no  raft  in  sight;  you  couldn't 
see  twenty  yards.  I  jumped  into  the  canoe  and  run 
back  to  the  stern,  and  grabbed  the  paddle  and  set 
her  back  a  stroke.  But  she  didn't  come.  I  was  in 
such  a  hurry  I  hadn't  untied  her.  I  got  up  and 
tried  to  untie  her,  but  I  was  so  excited  my  hands 
shook  so  I  couldn't  hardly  do  anything  with  them. 
As  soon  as  I  got  started  I  took  out  after  the  raft, 

112 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


hot  and  heavy,  right  down  the  towhead.  That  was' 
all  right  as  far  as  it  went,  but  the  towhead  wam't 
sixty  yards  long,  and  the  minute  I  flew  by  the  foot  of 
it  I  shot  out  into  the  solid  white  fog,  and  hadn't  no 
more  idea  which  way  I  was  going  than  a  dead  man. 

Thinks  I,  it  won't  do  to  paddle;  first  I  know  I'll 
run  into  the  bank  or  a  towhead  or  something;  I  got 
to  set  still  and  float,  and  yet  it's  mighty  fidgety 
business  to  have  to  hold  your  hands  still  at  such  a 
time.  I  whooped  and  listened.  Away  down  there 
somewheres  I  hears  a  small  whoop,  and  up  comes 
my  spirits.  I  went  tearing  after  it,  listening  sharp 
to  hear  it  again.  The  next  time  it  come  I  see  I 
warn't  heading  for  it,  but  heading  away  to  the  right 
of  it.  And  the  next  time  I  was  heading  away  to  the 
left  of  it — and  not  gaining  on  it  much  either,  for  I 
was  flying  around,  this  way  and  that  and  t'other, 
but  it  was  going  straight  ahead  all  the  time. 

I  did  wish  the  fool  would  think  to  beat  a  tin  pan, 
and  beat  it  all  the  time,  but  he  never  did,  and  it 
was  the  still  places  between  the  whoops  that  was 
making  the  trouble  for  me.  Well,  I  fought  along, 
and  directly  I  hears  the  whoop  behind  me.  I  was 
tangled  good  now.  That  was  somebody  else's 
whoop,  or  else  I  was  turned  around. 

I  throwed  the  paddle  down.  I  heard  the  whoop 
again;  it  was  behind  me  yet,  but  in  a  different  place; 
it  kept  coming,  and  kept  changing  its  place,  and  I 
kept  answering,  till  by  and  by  it  was  in  front  of  me 
again,  and  I  knowed  the  current  had  swung  the 
canoe's  head  down-stream,  and  I  was  all  right  if 
that  was  Jim  and  not  some  other  raftsman  hollering. 

113 


MARK  TWAIN 


I  couldn't  tell  nothing  about  voices  in  a  fog,  for 
nothing  don't  look  natural  nor  sound  natural  in  a  fog. 

The  whooping  went  on,  and  in  about  a  minute  I 
come  a-booming  down  on  a  cut  bank  with  smoky 
ghosts  of  big  trees  on  it,  and  the  current  throwed  me 
off  to  the  left  and  shot  by,  amongst  a  lot  of  snags 
that  fairly  roared,  the  current  was  tearing  by  them 
so  swift. 

In  another  second  or  two  it  was  solid  white  and 
still  again.  I  set  perfectly  still  then,  listening  to 
my  heart  thump,  and  I  reckon  I  didn't  draw  a 
breathTwhile  it  thumped  a  hundred. 

I  just  give  up  then.  I  knowed  what  the  matter 
Was.  That  cut  bank  was  an  island,  and  Jim  had 
gone  down  t'other  side  of  it.  It  warn't  no  towhead 
that  you  could  float  by  in  ten  minutes.  It  had  the 
big  timber  of  a  regular  island ;  it  might  be  five  or  six 
miles  long  and  more  than  half  a  mile  wide. 

I  kept  quiet,  with  my  ears  cocked,  about  fifteen 
minutes,  I  reckon.  I  was  floating  along,  of  course, 
four  or  five  miles  an  hour;  but  you  don't  ever  think 
cf  that.  No,  you  feel  like  you  are  laying  dead  still 
on  the  water;  and  if  a  little  glimpse  of  a  snag  slips 
by  you  don't  think  to  yourself  how  fast  you're  going, 
but  you  catch  your  breath  and  think,  my !  how  that 
snag's  tearing  along.  If  you  think  it  ain't  dismal 
and  lonesome  out  in  a  fog  that  way  by  yourself  in 
the  night,  you  try  it  once — you'll  see. 

Next,  for  about  a  half  an  hour,  I  whoops  now  and 
then;  at  last  I  hears  the  answer  a  long  ways  off,  and 
tries  to  follow  it,  but  I  couldn't  do  it,  and  directly 
I  judged  I'd  got  into  a  nest  of  towheads,  for  I  had 

114. 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


little  dim  glimpses  of  them  on  both  sides  of  me — 
sometimes  just  a  narrow  channel  between,  and  some 
that  I  couldn't  see  I  knowed  was  there  because  I'd 
hear  the  wash  of  the  current  against  the  old  dead 
brush  and  trash  that  hung  over  the  banks.  Well, 
I  warn't  long  loosing  the  whoops  down  amongst  the 
towheads;  and  I  only  tried  to  chase  them  a  little 
while,  anyway,  because  it  was  worse  than  chasing  a 
Jack-o'-lantern.  You  never  knowed  a  sound  dodge 
around  so,  and  swap  places  so  quick  and  so  much. 

I  had  to  claw  away  from  the  bank  pretty  lively  four 
or  five  times,  to  keep  from  knocking  the  islands  out  of 
the  river;  and  so  I  judged  the  raft  must  be  butting 
into  the  bank  every  now  and  then,  or  else  it  would 
get  further  ahead  and  clear  out  of  hearing — it  was 
floating  a  little  faster  than  what  I  was. 

Well,  I  seemed  to  be  in  the  open  river  again  by 
and  by,  but  I  couldn't  hear  no  sign  of  a  whoop  no- 
wheres.  I  reckoned  Jim  had  fetched  up  on  a  snag, 
maybe,  and  it  was  all  up  with  him.  I  was  good  and 
tired,  so  I  laid  down  in  the  canoe  and  said  I  wouldn't 
bother  no  more.  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  sleep,  of 
course;  but  I  was  so  sleepy  I  couldn't  help  it;  so  I 
thought  I  would  take  jest  one  little  cat-nap. 

'But  I  reckon  it  was  more  than  a  cat-nap,  for  when 
I  waked  up  the  stars  was  shining  bright,  the  fog  was 
all  gone,  and  I  was  spinning  down  a  big  bend  stern 
first.  First  I  didn't  know  where  I  was;  I  thought  I 
was  dreaming;  and  when  things  began  to  come  back 
to  me  thej  seemed  to  come  up  dim  out  of  last  week. 

It  was  a  monstrous  big  river  here,  with  the  tallest 
and  the  thickest  kind  of  timber  on  both  banks;  just 


MARK  TWAIN 


a  solid  wall,  as  well  as  I  could  see  by  the  stars.  I 
looked  away  down-stream,  and  seen  a  black  speck 
on  the  water.  I  took  after  it;  but  when  I  got  to  it 
it  warn't  nothing  but  a  couple  of  saw-logs  made  fast 
together.  Then  I  see  another  speck,  and  chased 
that;  then  another,  and  this  time  I  was  right.  It 
was  the  raft. 

When  I  got  to  it  Jim  was  setting  there  with  his 
head  down  between  his  knees,  asleep,  with  his  right 
arm  hanging  over  the  steering-oar.  The  other  oar 
was  smashed  off,  and  the  raft  was  littered  up  with 
leaves  and  branches  and  dirt.  So  she'd  had  a  rough 
time. 

I  made  fast  and.  laid  down  under  Jim's  nose  on  the 
raft,  and  began  to  gap,  and  stretch  my  fists  out 
against  Jim,  and  says: 

" Hello,  Jim,  have  I  been  asleep?  Why  didn't  you 
stir  me  up?" 

"Goodness  gracious,  is  dat  you,  Huck?  En  you 
ain'  dead — you  ain'  drownded — you's  back  ag'inr 
It's  too  good  for  true,  honey,  it's  too  good  for  true. 
Lemme  look  at  you  chile,  lemme  feel  o'  you.  No, 
you  ain'  dead!  you's  back  ag'in,  'live  en  soun',  jis  de 
same  ole  Huck— de  same  ole  Huck,  thanks  to  good- 
ness!" 

"What's  the  matter  with  you,  Jim?  You  been 
a-drinking?" 

"Drinkiia'?  Has  I  ben  a-drinkin'?  Has  I  had  a 
chance  to  be  a-drinkin'?" 

"Well,  then,  what  makes  you  talk  so  wild?" 

"How  does  I  talk  wild?" 

"How?   Why,  hain't  you  been  talking  about, my^ 
116 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


coming  back,  and  all  that  stuff,  as  if  I'd  been  gone 
away?" 

"Huck — Huck  Finn,  you  look  me  in  de  eye;  look 
me  in  de  eye.   Hain't  you  ben  gone  away?" 

"Gone  away?  Why,  what  in  the  nation  do  you 
mean?  I  hain't  been  gone  anywheres.  Where  would 
I  go  to?" 

"Well,  looky  here,  boss,  dey's  sumfn  wrong,  dey 
is.  Is  I  me,  or  who  is  I?  Is  I  heah,  or  whah  is  I? 
Now  dat's  what  I  wants  to  know." 

"Well,  I  think  you're  here,  plain  enough,  but  I 
think  you're  a  tangle-headed  old  fool,  Jim." 

"I  is,  is  I?  Well,  you  answer  me  dis :  Didn't  you 
tote  out  de  line  in  de  canoe  fer  to  make  fas'  to  de  tow- 
head?" 

"No,  I  didn't.  What  towhead?  I  hain't  seen  no 
towhead." 

"You  hain't  seen  no  towhead?  Looky  here,  didn't 
de  line  pull  loose  en  de  raf '  go  a-hummin'  down  de 
river,  en  leave  you  en  de  canoe  behine  in  de  fog?" 

"What  fog?" 

"Why,  de  fog! — de  fog  dat's  been  aroun'  all  night, 
En  didn't  you  whoop,  en  didn't  I  whoop,  tell  we  got 
mix'  up  in  de  islands  en  one  un  us  got  los'  en  t'other 
one  was  jis'  as  good  as  los',  'kase  he  didn'  know  whah 
he  wuz  ?  En  didn't  I  bust  up  agin  a  lot  er  dem  islands 
en  have  a  tumble  time  en  mos'  git  drownded?  Now 
ain'  dat  so,  boss — ain't  it  so?  You  answer  me  dat." 

"Well,  this  is  too  many  for  me,  Jim.  I  hain't  seen 
no  fog,  nor  no  islands,  nor  no  troubles,  nor  nothing. 
I  been  setting  here  talking  with  you  all  night  till  you 
went  to  sleep  about  ten  minutes  ago,  and  I  reckon  I 

XJ7 


MARK  TWAIN 

done  the  same.  You  couldn't  'a'  got  drunk  in  that 
time,  so  of  course  you've  been  dreaming." 

"Dad  fetch  it,  how  is  I  gwyne  to  dream  all  dat  in 
ten  minutes?" 

"Well,  hang  it  all^  you  did  dream  it,  because  there 
didn't  any  of  it  happen." 

"But,  Huck,  it's  all  jis'  as  plain  to  me  as — " 

"It  don't  make  no  difference  how  plain  it  is;  there 
ain't  nothing  in  it.  I  know,  because  I've  been  here 
all  the  time." 

Jim  didn't  say  nothing  for  about  five  minutes,  but 
set  there  studying  over  it.   Then  he  says : 

"Well,  den,  I  reck'n  I  did  dream  it,  Huck;  but 
dog  my  cats  ef  it  ain't  de  powerfulest  dream  I  ever 
see.  En  I  hain't  ever  had  no  dream  b'fo'  dat's  tired 
me  like  dis  one." 

"Oh,  well,  that's  all  right,  because  a  dream  does 
tire  a  body  like  everything  sometimes.  But  this  one 
was  a  staving  dream;  tell  me  all  about  it,  Jim." 

So  Jim  went  to  work  and  told  me  the  whole  thing 
right  through,  just  as  it  happened,  only  he  painted  it 
up  considerable.  Then  he  said  he  must  start  in  and 
"  'terpret "  it,  because  it  was  sent  for  a  warning.  He 
said  the  first  towhead  stood  for  a  man  that  would  try 
to  do  us  some  good,  but  the  current  was  another  man 
that  would  get  us  away  from  him.  The  whoops  was 
warnings  that  would  come  to  us  every  now  and  then, 
and  if  we  didn't  try  hard  to  make  out  to  understand 
them  they'd  just  take  us  into  bad  luck,  'stead  of  keep- 
ing us  out  of  it.  The  lot  of  towheads  was  troubles 
We  was  going  to  get  into  with  quarrelsome  people  and 
all  kinds  of  mean  folks,  but  if  we  minded  our  business 

ai8 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


and  didn't  talk  back  and  aggravate  them,  we  would 
pull  through  and  get  out  of  the  fog  and  into  the  big 
clear  river,  which  was  the  free  states,  and  wouldn't 
have  no  more  trouble. 

It  had  clouded  up  pretty  dark  just  after  I  got  on  to 
the  raft,  but  it  was  clearing  up  again  now. 

"Oh,  well,  that's  all  interpreted  well  enough  as  far 
as  it  goes,  Jim,"  I  says;  "but  what  does  these  things 
stand  for?" 

It  was  the  leaves  and  rubbish  on  the  raft  and  the 
smashed  oar.   You  could  see  them  first-rate  now. 

Jim  looked  at  the  trash,  and  then  looked  at  me,  and 
back  at  the  trash  again.  He  had  got  the  dream  fixed 
so  strong  in  his  head  that  he  couldn't  seem  to  shake  it 
loose  and  get  the  facts  back  into  its  place  again  right 
away.  But  when  he  did  get  the  thing  straightened 
around  he  looked  at  me  steady  without  ever  smiling, 
and  says: 

"What  do  dey  stan'  for?  I's  gwyne  to  tell  you. 
When  I  got  all  wore  out  wid  work,  en  wid  de  callin* 
for  you,  en  went  to  sleep,  my  heart  wuz  mos'  broke 
bekase  you  wuz  los',  en  I  didn'  k'yer  no'  mo'  what 
become  er  me  en  de  raf '.  En  when  I  wake  up  en  fine 
you  back  ag'm,  all  safe  en  soun',  de  tears  come,  en  I 
could  'a'  got  down  on  my  knees  en  kiss  yo'  foot,  I's  so 
thankful.  En  all  you  wuz  thmkin'  'bout  wuz  how 
you  could  make  a  fool  uv  ole  Jim  wid  a  lie.  Dat  truck 
dah  is  trash;  en  trash  is  what  people  is  dat  puts  dirt 
on  de  head  er  dey  fren's  en  makes  'em  ashamed." 

Then  he  got  up  slow  and  walked  to  the  wigwam{ 
and  went  in  there  without  saying  anything  but  that. 
But  that  was  enough.   It  made  me  feel  so  mean  I 

si9 


MARK  TWAIN 


could  almost  kissed  his  foot  to  get  him  to  take  it 
back. 

It  was  fifteen  minutes  before  I  could  work  myself 
up  to  go  and  humble  myself  to  a  nigger;  but  I  done 
it,  and  I  warn't  ever  sorry  for  it  afterward,  neither. 
I  didn't  do  him  no  more  mean  tricks,  and  I  wouldn't 
done  that  one  if  I'd  'a'  knowed  it  would  make  him 
feel  that  way. 


1 20 


CHAPTER  XVt 


WE  slept  most  all  day,  and  started  out  at  night, 
a  little  ways  behind  a  monstrous  long  raft 
that  was  as  long  going  by  as  a  procession.  She  had 
four  long  sweeps  at  each  end,  so  we  judged  she  car- 
ried as  many  as  thirty  men,  likely.  She  had  five  big 
wigwams  aboard,  wide  apart,  and  an  open  camp-fire 
in  the  middle,  and  a  tall  flag-pole  at  each  end.  There 
was  a  power  of  style  about  her.  It  amounted  to  some- 
thing being  a  raftsman  on  such  a  craft  as  that. 

We  went  drifting  down  into  a  big  bend,  and  the 
night  clouded  up  and  got  hot.  The  river  was  very 
wide,  and  was  walled  with  solid  timber  on  both  sides; 
you  couldn't  see  a  break  in  it  hardly  ever,  or  a  light. 
We  talked  about  Cairo,  and  wondered  whether  we 
would  know  it  when  we  got  to  it.  I  said  likely  we 
wouldn't,  because  I  had  heard  say  there  warn't  but 
about  a  dozen  houses  there,  and  if  they  didn't  happen 
to  have  them  lit  up,  how  was  we  going  to  know  we 
was  passing  a  town?  Jim  said  if  the  two  big  rivers 
joined  together  there,  that  would  show.  But  I  said 
maybe  we  might  think  we  was  passing  the  foot  of  an 
island  and  coming  into  the  same  old  river  again.  That 
disturbed  Jim — and  me  too.  So  the  question  was, 
what  to  do?  I  said,  paddle  ashore  the  first  time  a 
light  showed,  and  tell  them  pap  was  behind,  coming 

12* 


MARK  TWAIN 


along  with  a  trading-scow,  and  was  a  green  hand  at 
the  business,  and  wanted  to  know  how  far  it  was  to 
Cairo.  Jim  thought  it  was  a  good  idea,  so  we  took  a 
smoke  on  it  and  waited. 

There  warn't  nothing  to  do  now  but  to  look  out 
sharp  for  the  town,  and  not  pass  it  without  seeing  it. 
He  said  he'd  be  mighty  sure  to  see  it,  because  he'd  be 
a  free  man  the  minute  he  seen  it,  but  if  he  missed  it 
he'd  be  in  a  slave  country  again  and  no  more  show 
for  freedom.  Every  little  while  he  jumps  up  and 
says: 

"Dah  she  is?" 

But  it  warn't.  It  was  Jack-o'-lanterns,  or  light- 
ning-bugs ;  so  he  set  down  again,  and  went  to  watch- 
ing, same  as  before.  Jim  said  it  made  him  all  over 
trembly  and  feverish  to  be  so  close  to  freedom. 
Well,  I  can  tell  you  it  made  me  all  over  trembly  and 
feverish,  too,  to  hear  him,  because  I  begun  to  get  it 
through  my  head  that  he  was  most  free — and  who 
was  to  blame  for  it  ?  Why,  me.  I  couldn't  get  that 
out  of  my  conscience,  no  how  nor  no  way.  It  got  to 
troubling  me  so  I  couldn't  rest ;  I  couldn't  stay  still 
in  one  place.  It  hadn't  ever  come  home  to  me 
before,  what  this  thing  was  that  I  was  doing.  But 
now  it  did;  and  it  stayed  with  me,  and  scorched  me 
more  and  more.  I  tried  to  make  out  to  myself  that 
I  warn't  to  blame,  because  I  didn't  run  Jim  off  from 
his  rightful  owner;  but  it  warn't  no  use,  conscience 
up  and  says,  every  time,  ''But  you  knowed  he  was 
running  for  his  freedom,  and  you  could  'a'  paddled 
ashore  and  told  ^  somebody."  That  was  so — I 
couldn't  get  around  Jiat  no  way.    That  was  where 

122 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


it  pinched.  Conscience  says  to  me,  "What  had  poor 
Miss  Watson  done  to  you  that  you  could  see  her 
nigger  go  off  right  under  your  eyes  and  never  say 
one  single  word?  What  did  that  poor  old  woman 
do  to  you  that  you  could  treat  her  so  mean?  Why. 
she  tried  to  learn  you  your  book,  she  tried  to  learn 
you  your  manners,  she  tried  to  be  good  to  you  every 
way  she  knowed  how.    That's  what  she  done." 

I  got  to  feeling  so  mean  and  so  miserable  I  most 
wished  I  was  dead.  I  fidgeted  up  and  down  the  raft, 
abusing  myself  to  myself,  and  Jim  was  fidgeting  up 
and  down  past  me.  We  neither  of  us  could  keep 
still.  Every  time  he  danced  around  and  says, 
"Dah's  Cairo!"  it  went  through  me  like  a  shot,  and 
I  thought  if  it  was  Cairo  I  reckoned  I  would  die  of 
miserableness. 

Jim  talked  out  loud  all  the  time  while  I  was  talking 
to  myself.  He  was  saying  how  the  first  thing  he 
would  do  when  he  got  to  a  free  state  he  would  go  to 
saving  up  money  and  never  spend  a  single  cent,  and 
when  he  got  enough  he  would  buy  his  wife,  which  was 
owned  on  a  farm  close  to  where  Miss  Watson  lived; 
and  then  they  would  both  work  to  buy  the  two  chil- 
dren, and  if  their  master  wouldn't  sell  them,  they'd 
get  an  Ab'litionist  to  go  and  steal  them. 

It  most  froze  me  to  hear  such  talk.  He  wouldn't 
ever  dared  to  talk  such  talk  in  his  life  before.  Just 
see  what  a  difference  it  made  in  him  the  minute  he 
judged  he  was  about  free.  It  was  according  to  the  old 
saying,  "Give  a  nigger  an  inch  and  he'll  take  an  ell." 
Thinks  I,  this  is  what  comes  of  my  not  thinking. 
Here  was  this  nigger,  which  I  had  as  good  as  helped 

123  M.T.-3-5 


MARK  TWAI'H 

co  run  away,  coming  right  out  fiat-footed  and  saying 
he  would  steal  his  children — children  that  belonged  to 
a  man  I  didn't  even  know;  a  man  that  hadn't  ever 
done  me  no  harm. 

I  was  sorry  to  hear  Jim  say  that,  it  was  such  a 
lowering  of  him.  My  conscience  got  to  stirring  me 
up  hotter  than  ever,  until  at  last  I  says  to  it,  "Let  up 
on  me — it  ain't  too  late  yet— I'll  paddle  ashore  at  the 
first  light  and  tell."  I  felt  easy  and  happy  and  light 
'  as  a  feather  right  off.  All  my  troubles  was  gone.  I 
went  to  looking  out  sharp  for  a  light,  and  sort  of  sing- 
ing to  myself.  By  and  by  one  showed.  Jim  sings 
out: 

"We's  safe,  Huck,  we's  safe!  Jump  up  and  crack 
yo'  heels!  Dat's  de  good  ole  Cairo  at  las',  I  jis 
knows  it!" 

I  says: 

"I'll  take  the  canoe  and  go  and  see,  Jim.  It 
mightn't  be,  you  know." 

He  jumped  and  got  the  canoe  ready,  and  put  his 
old  coat  in  the  bottom  for  me  to  set  on,  and  give 
me  the  paddle;  and  as  I  shoved  off,  he  says: 

"Pooty  soon  I'll  be  a-shout'n'  for  joy,  en  I'll  say, 
it's  all  on  accounts  o'  Huck;  I's  a  free  man,  en  I 
couldn't  ever  ben  free  ef  it  hadn'  ben  for  Huck; 
Huck  done  it.  Jim  won't  ever  forgit  you,  Huck; 
you's  de  bes'  fren'  Jim's  ever  had;  en  you's  de  only 
fren'  ole  Jim's  got  now." 

I  was  paddling  off,  all  in  a  sweat  to  tell  on  him; 
but  when  he  says  this,  it  seemed  to  kind  of  take  the 
tuck  all  out  of  me.  I  went  along  slow  then,  and  I 
warn't  right  down  certain  whether  I  was  glad  £ 

124  i 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


started  or  whether  I  warn't.  When  I  was  fifty 
yards  off,  Jim  says: 

"Dah  you  goes,  de  ole  true  Huck;  de  on'y  white 
genlman  dat  ever  kep'  his  promise  to  ole  Jim." 

Well,  I  just  felt  sick.  But  I  says,  I  got  to  do  it— 
I  can't  get  out  of  it.  Right  then  along  comes  a  skiff 
with  two  men  in  it  with  guns,  and  they  stopped  and 
I  stopped.    One  of  them  says: 

"What's  that  yonder?" 

"A  piece  of  a  raft,"  I  says* 

"Do  you  belong  on  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

<'Any  men  on  it?" 

"Only  one,  sir." 

"Well,  there's  five  niggers  run  off  to-night  up 
yonder,  above  the  head  of  the  bend.  Is  your  man 
white  or  black?" 

I  didn't  answer  up  prompt.  I  tried  to,  but  the 
words  wouldn't  come.  I  tried  for  a  second  or  two 
to  brace  up  and  out  with  it,  but  I  warn't  man 
enough — hadn't  the  spunk  of  a  rabbit.  I  see  I  was 
weakening;  so  I  just  give  up  trying,  and  up  and 
says: 

"He's  white." 

"I  reckon  we'll  go  and  see  for  ourselves." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  says  I,  "because  it's  pap 
that's  there,  and  maybe  you'd  help  me  tow  the  raft 
ashore  where  the  light  is.  He's  sick — and  so  is  mam 
and  Mary  Ann." 

"Oh,  the  devil!  we're  in  a  hurry,  boy.  But  I 
s'pose  we've  got  to.  Come,  buckle  to  your  paddle* 
and  let's  get  along." 

125 


MARK  TWAIN 


I  buckled  to  my  paddle  and  they  laid  to  their  oars. 
When  we  had  made  a  stroke  or  two,  I  says : 

"Pap  11  be  mighty  much  obleeged  to  you,  I  can 
tell  you.  Everybody  goes  away  when  I  want  them 
to  help  me  tow  the  raft  ashore,  and  I  can't  do  it  by 
myself." 

"Well,  that's  infernal  mean.  Odd,  too.  Say,  boy, 
what's  the' matter  with  your  father?" 

"It's  the — a— the — well,  it  ain't  anything  much." 

They  stopped  pulling.  It  warn't  but  a  mighty 
Uttle  ways  to  the  raft  now,    One  says: 

"Boy,  that's  a  lie.  What  is  the  matter  with  your 
pap?  Answer  up  square  now,  and  it  '11  be  the  better 
for  you." 

"I  will,  sir,  I  will,  honest — but  don't  leave  us, 
please.  It's  the — the —  Gentlemen,  if  you'll  only 
pull  ahead,  and  let  me  heave  you  the  headline,  you 
won't  have  to  come  a-near  the  raft — please  do." 

"Set  her  back,  John,  set  her  back!"  says  one. 
They  backed  water.  "Keep  away,  boy — keep  to 
looard.  Confound  it,  I  just  expect  the  wind  has 
bio  wed  it  to  us.  Your  pap's  got  the  smallpox,  and 
you  know  it  precious  well.  Why  didn't  you  come  out 
and  say  so?    Do  you  want  to  spread  it  all  over?" 

"Well,"  says  I,  a-blubbering,  "I've  told  every- 
body before,  and  they  just  went  away  and  left  us." 

"Poor  devil,  there's  something  in  that.  We  are 
right  down  sorry  for  you,  but  we — -well,  hang  it,  we 
don't  want  the  smallpox,  you  see.  Look  here,  I'll 
tell  you  what  to  do.  Don't  you  try  to  land  by  your- 
self, or  you'll  smash  everything  to  pieces.  You  float 
along  down  about  twenty  miles,  and  you'll  come  to 

126 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


a  town  on  the  left-hand  side  of  the  river.  It  will  be 
long  after  sun-up  then,  and  when  you  ask  for  help 
you  tell  them  your  folks  are  all  down  with  chills  and 
fever.  Don't  be  a  fool  again,  and  let  people  guess 
what  is  the  matter.  Now  we're  trying  to  do  you  a 
kindness;  so  you  just  put  twenty  miles  between  us, 
that's  a  good  boy.  It  wouldn't  do  any  good  to  land 
yonder  where  the  light  is — it's  only  a  wood-yard. 
Say,  I  reckon  your  father's  poor,  and  I'm  bound 
to  say  he's  in  pretty  hard  luck.  Here,  I'll  put  a 
twenty-dollar  gold  piece  on  this  board,  and  you  get 
it  when  it  floats  by.  I  feel  mighty  mean  to  leave 
you;  but  my  kingdom!  it  won't  do  to  fool  with  small- 
pox, don't  you  see?" 

4 'Hold  on,  Parker,"  says  the  man,  ' 1  here's  a 
twenty  to  put  on  the  board  for  me.  Good-by,  boy; 
you  do  as  Mr.  Parker  told  you,  and  you'll  be  all 
right." 

"That's  so,  my  boy — good-by,  good-by.  If  you 
see  any  runaway  niggers  you  get  help  and  nab  them, 
and  you  can  make  some  money  by  it." 

" Good-by,  sir,"  says  I;  "I  won't  let  no  runaway 
niggers  get  by  me  if  I  can  help  it." 

They  went  off  and  I  got  aboard  the  raft,  feeling 
bad  and  low,  because  I  knowed  very  well  I  had  done 
wrong,  and  I  see  it  warn't  no  use  for  me  to  try  to 
learn  to  do  right ;  a  body  that  don't  get  started  right 
when  he's  little  ain't  got  no  show — when  the  pinch 
comes  there  ain't  nothing  to  back  him  up  and  keep 
him  to  his  work,  and  so  he  gets  beat.  Then  I  thought 
a  minute,  and  says  to  myself,  hold  on;  s'pose  you'd 
'a'  done  right  and  give  Jim  up,  would  you  felt  better 

S27 


MARK  TWAIN 


than  what  you  do  now?  No,  says  I,  I'd  feel  bad— « 
I'd  feel  just  the  same  way  I  do  now.  Well,  thent 
says  I,  what's  the  use  you  learning  to  do  right  when 
it's  troublesome  to  do  right  and  ain't  no  trouble  to 
do  wrong,  and  the  wages  is  just  the  same?  I  was 
stuck.  I  couldn't  answer  that.  So  I  reckoned  I 
wouldn't  bother  no  more  about  it,  but  after  this 
always  do  whichever  come  handiest  at  the  time. 

I  went  into  the  wigwam;  Jim  warn't  there.  £ 
looked  all  around;  he  warn't  anywhere.    I  says: 

"Jim!" 

■  *  Here  I  is,  Huck.  Is  dey  out  o'  sight  yit  ?  Don't 
talk  loud." 

He  was  in.  the  river  under  the  stern  oar,  with  just 
his  nose  out.  I  told  him  they  were  out  of  sight,  so 
he  come  aboard.    He  says: 

"I  was  a-listenin'  to  all  de  talk,  en  I  slips  into  de 
river  en  was  gwyne  to  shove  for  sho'  if  dey  come 
aboard.  Den  I  was  gwyne  to  swim  to  de  raf  agin 
when  dey  was  gone.  But  lawsy,  how  you  did  fool 
'em,  Huck!  Dat  wuz  de  smartes'  dodge!  I  tell  you, 
chile,  I  'spec  it  save'  ole  Jim— ~ole  Jim  ain't  going 
to  forgit  you  for  dat,  honey." 

Then  we  talked  about  the  money.  It  was  a  pretty 
good  raise—twenty  dollars  apiece.  Jim  said  we 
could  take  deck  passage  on  a  steamboat  now,  and  the 
money  would  last  us  as  far  as  we  wanted  to  go  in  the 
free  states.  He  said  twenty  mile  more  warn't  far 
for  the  raft  to  go,  but  he  wished  we  was  already 
there. 

Towards  daybreak  we  tied  up,  and  Jim  was 
mighty  particular  about  hiding  the  raft  good,  Then 

128 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


he  worked  all  day  fixing  things  in  bundles,  and  getting 
all  ready  to  quit  rafting. 

That  night  about  ten  we  hove  in  sight  of  the 
lights  of  a  town  away  down  in  a  left-hand  bend. 

I  went  off  in  the  canoe  to  ask  about  it.  Pretty 
soon  I  found  a  man  out  in  the  river  with  a  skiff, 
setting  a  trot-line.    I  ranged  up  and  says: 

4 'Mister,  is  that  town  Cairo?" 

"Cairo?  no.    You  must  be  a  blame*  fool." 

"What  town  is  it,  mister?" 

"If  you  want  to  know,  go  and  find  out.  If  you 
stay  here  botherin'  around  me  for  about  a  half  a 
minute  longer  you'll  get  something  you  won't  want." 

I  paddled  to  the  raft.  Jim  was  awful  disap- 
pointed, but  I  said  never  mind,  Cairo  would  be  the 
next  place,  I  reckoned. 

We  passed  another  town  before  daylight,  and  I 
was  going  out  again;  but  it  wTas  high  ground,  so  1 
didn't  go.  No  high  ground  about  Cairo,  Jim  said. 
I  had  forgot  it.  We  laid  up  for  the  day  on  a  towhead 
tolerable  close  to  the  left-hand  bank.  I  begun  to 
suspicion  something.    So  did  Jim.    I  says: 

"Maybe  we  went  by  Cairo  in  the  fog  that  night." 

He  says: 

"Doan'  le's  talk  about  it,  Huck.  Po'  niggers 
can't  have  no  luck.  I  awluz  'spected  dat  rattlesnake- 
skin  warn't  done  wid  its  work." 

"I  wish  I'd  never  seen  that  snake-skin,  Jim — I  do 
wish  I'd  never  laid  eyes  on  it." 

"It  ain't  yo'  fault,  Huck;  you  didn't  know. 
Don't  you  blame  yo'self  'bout  it." 

When  it  was  daylight,  here  was  the  clear  Ohio 

129 


MARK  TWAIN 


water  inshore,  sure  enough,  and  outside  was  the  old 
regular  Muddy!    So  it  was  all  up  with  Cairo. 

We  talked  it  all  over.  It  wouldn't  do  to  take  to 
the  shore;  we  couldn't  take  the  raft  up  the  stream, 
of  course.  There  warn't  no  way  but  to  wait  for 
dark,  and  start  back  in  the  canoe  and  take  the 
chances.  So  we  slept  all  day  amongst  the  cotton- 
wood  thicket,  so  as  to  be  fresh  for  the  work,  and 
when  we  went  back  to  the  raft  about  dark  the  canoe 
was  gone  ? 

We  didn't  say  a  word  for  a  good  while.  There 
warn't  anything  to  say.  We  both  knowed  well 
enough  it  was  some  more  work  of  the  rattlesnake- 
skin;  so  what  was  the  use  to  talk  about  it?  It 
would  only  look  like  we  was  finding  fault,  and  that 
would  be  bound  to  fetch  more  bad  luck — and  keep  on 
fetching  it,  too,  till  we  knowed  enough  to  keep  still. 

By  and  by  we  talked  about  what  we  better  do, 
and  found  there  warn't  no  way  but  just  to  go  along 
down  with  the  raft  till  we  got  a  chance  to  buy  a 
canoe  to  go  back  in.  We  warn't  going  to  borrow  it 
when  there  warn't  anybody  around,  the  way  pap 
would  do,  for  that  might  set  people  after  us. 

So  we  shoved  out  after  dark  on  the  raft. 

Anybody  that  don't  believe  yet  that  it's  foolish- 
ness to  handle  a  snake-skin,  after  all  that  that  snake- 
skin  done  for  us,  will  believe  it  now  if  they  read  on 
and  see  what  more  it  done  for  us. 

The  place  to  buy  canoes  is  off  of  rafts  laying  up 
at  shore.  But  we  didn't  see  no  rafts  laying  up;  so 
we  went  along  during  three  hours  and  more.  Well, 
the  night  got  gray  and  rather  thick,  which  is  the 

130 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


next  meanest  thing  to  fog.  You  can't  tell  the  shape 
of  the  river,  and  you  can't  see  no  distance.  It  got  to 
be  very  late  and  still,  and  then  along  comes  a  steam- 
boat up  the  river.  We  lit  the  lantern,  and  judged 
she  would  see  it.  Up-stream  boats  didn't  generly 
come  close  to  us ;  they  go  out  and  follow  the  bars  and 
hunt  for  easy  water  under  the  reefs;  but  nights  like 
this  they  bull  right  up  the  channel  against  the  whole 
river. 

We  could  hear  her  pounding  along,  but  we  didn't 
see  her  good  till  she  was  close.  She  aimed  right  for 
us.  Often  they  do  that  and  try  to  see  how  close 
they  can  come  without  touching;  sometimes  the 
wheel  bites  off  a  sweep,  and  then  the  pilot  sticks  his 
head  out  and  laughs,  and  thinks  he's  mighty  smart. 
Well,  here  she  comes,  and  we  said  she  was  going  to 
try  and  shave  us;  but  she  didn't  seem  to  be  sheering 
off  a  bit.  She  was  a  big  one,  and  she  was  coming 
in  a  hurry,  too,  looking  like  a  black  cloud  with  rows 
of  glow-worms  around  it;  but  all  of  a  sudden  she 
bulged  out,  big  and  scary,  with  a  long  row  of  wide- 
open  furnace  doors  shining  like  red-hot  teeth,  and 
her  monstrous  bows  and  guards  hanging  right  over 
us.  There  was  a  yell  at  us,  and  a  jingling  of  bells 
to  stop  the  engines,  a  powwow  of  cussing,  and 
whistling  of  steam — and  as  Jim  went  overboard  on 
one  side  and  I  on  the  other,  she  come  smashing 
straight  through  the  raft. 

I  dived — and  I  aimed  to  find  the  bottom,  too,  for 
a  thirty-foot  wheel  had  got  to  go  over  me,  and  I 
wanted  it  to  have  plenty  of  room.  I  could  always 
stay  under  water  a  minute;  this  time  I  reckon  I 

131 


MARK  TWAIN 


stayed  under  a  minute  and  a  half.  Then  I  bounced 
for  the  top  in  a  hurry,  for  I  was  nearly  busting.  I 
popped  out  to  my  armpits  and  blowed  the  water  out 
of  my  nose,  and  puffed  a  bit.  Of  course  there  was 
a  booming  current;  and  of  course  that  boat  started 
her  engines  again  ten  seconds  after  she  stopped  them, 
for  they  never  cared  much  for  raftsmen;  so  now  she 
was  churning  along  up  the  river,  out  of  sight  in  the 
thick  weather,  though  I  could  hear  her. 

I  sung  out  for  Jim  about  a  dozen  times,  but  I 
didn't  get  any  answer;  so  I  grabbed  a  plank  that 
touched  me  while  I  was  " treading  water,"  and  struck 
out  for  shore,  shoving  it  ahead  of  me.  But  I  made 
out  to  see  that  the  drift  of  the  current  was  towards 
the  left-hand  shore,  which  meant  that  I  was  in  a 
crossing;  so  I  changed  off  and  went  that  way. 

It  was  one  of  these  long,  slanting,  two-mile  cross- 
ings; so  I  was  a  good  long  time  in  getting  over.  I 
made  a  safe  landing,  and  dumb  up  the  bank.  I 
couldn't  see  but  a  little  ways,  but  I  went  poking 
along  over  rough  ground  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or 
more,  and  then  I  run  across  a  big  old-fashioned 
double  log  house  before  I  noticed  it.  I  was  going 
to  rush  by  and  get  away,  but  a  lot  of  dogs  jumped 
out  and  went  to  howling  and  barking  at  me,  and  I 
knowed  better  than  to  move  another  peg. 


132 


CHAPTER  XVII 


IN  about  a  minute  somebody  spoke  out  of  a  win- 
dow without  putting  his  head  out,  and  says: 
' '  Be  done,  boys !   Who's  there  ?" 
I  says: 
"It's  me." 
"Who's  me?" 
"George  Jackson,  sir." 
"What  do  you  want?" 

"I  don't  want  nothing,  sir.  I  only  want  to  go 
along  by,  but  the  dogs  won't  let  me." 

''What  are  you  prowling  around  here  this  time  of 
night  for — hey?" 

"I  warn't  prowling  around,  sir;  I  fell  overboard 
off  of  the  steamboat." 

"Oh,  you  did,  did  you?  Strike  a  light  there, 
somebody.    What  did  you  say  your  name  was?" 

"George  Jackson,  sir.    I'm  only  a  boy." 

"Look  here,  if  you're  telling  the  truth  you  needn't 
be  afraid — nobody  '11  hurt  you.  But  don't  try  to 
budge;  stand  right  where  you  are.  Rouse  out  Bob 
and  Tom,  some  of  you,  and  fetch  the  guns.  George 
Jackson,  is  there  anybody  with  you?" 

"No,  sir,  nobody." 

I  heard  the  people  stirring  around  in  the  house 
now,  and  see  a  light.    The  man  sung  out : 

133 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Snatch  that  light  away,  Betsy,  you  old  fool — 
ain't  you  got  any  sense  ?  Put  it  on  the  floor  behind 
the  front  door.  Bob,  if  you  and  Tom  are  ready, 
take  your  places." 

"All  ready." 

"Now,  George  Jackson,  do  you  know  the  Shep- 
herdsons?" 

"No,  sir;  I  never  heard  of  them." 

"Well,  that  may  be  so,  and  it  mayn't.  Now,  all 
ready.  Step  forward,  George  Jackson.  And  mind, 
don't  you  hurry — come  mighty  slow.  If  there's 
anybody  with  you,  let  him  keep  back — if  he  shows 
himself  he'll  be  shot.  Come  along  now.  Come 
slow;  push  the  door  open  yourself — just  enough  to 
squeeze  in,  d'you  hear?" 

I  didn't  hurry;  I  couldn't  if  I'd  a- wanted  to.  I 
took  one  slow  step  at  a  time  and  there  warn't  a 
sound,  only  I  thought  I  could  hear  my  heart.  The 
dogs  were  as  still  as  the  humans,  but  they  followed  a 
little  behind  me.  When  I  got  to  the  three  log 
doorsteps  I  heard  them  unlocking  and  unbarring  and 
unbolting.  I  put  my  hand  on  the  door  and  pushed 
it  a  little  and  a  little  more  till  somebody  said, 
"There,  that's  enough — put  your  head  in."  I  done 
it,  but  I  judged  they  would  take  it  off. 

The  candle  was  on  the  floor,  and  there  they  all 
was,  looking  at  me,  and  me  at  them,  for  about  a 
quarter  of  a  minute:  Three  big  men  with  guns 
pointed  at  me,  which  made  me  wince,  I  tell  you; 
the  oldest,  gray  and  about  sixty,  the  other  two 
thirty  or  more — all  of  them  fine  and  handsome— and 
the  sweetest  old  gray-headed  lady,  and  back  of  her 

i34 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

-two  yottfig  women  which  I  couldn't  see  right  well 
The  old  gentleman  says: 

' 1  There;  I  reckon  it's  all  right.    Come  in." 

As  soon  as  I  was  in  the  old  gentleman  he  locked 
the  door  and  barred  it  and  bolted  it,  and  told  the 
young  men  to  come  in  with  their  guns,  and  they  all 
went  in  a  big  parlor  that  had  a  new  rag  carpet  on 
the  floor,  and  got  together  in  a  corner  that  was  out 
of  the  range  of  the  front  windows — there  warn't  none 
on  the  side.  They  held  the  candle,  and  took  a  good 
look  at  me,  and  all  said,  "Why,  he  ain't  a  Shepherd- 
son — no,  there  ain't  any  Shepherdson  about  him." 
Then  the  old  man  said  he  hoped  I  wouldn't  mind 
being  searched  for  arms,  because  he  didn't  mean  no 
harm  by  it — it  was  only  to  make  sure.  So  he  didn't 
pry  into  my  pockets,  but  only  felt  outside  with  his 
hands,  and  said  it  was  all  right.  He  told  me  to 
make  myself  easy  and  at  home,  and  tell  all  about 
myself;  but  the  old  lady  says: 

"Why,  bless  you,  Saul,  the  poor  thing's  as  wet  as 
he  can  be;  and  don't  you  reckon  it  may  be  he's 
hungry?" 

"True  for  you,  Rachel — I  forgot." 

So  the  old  lady  says: 

"Betsy"  (this  was  a  nigger  woman),  "you  fly 
around  and  get  him  something  to  eat  as  quick  as  you 
can,  poor  thing;  and  one  of  you  girls  go  and  wake 
up  Buck  and  tell  him — oh,  here  he  is  himself.  Buck, 
take  this  little  stranger  and  get  the  wet  clothes  ofl 
from  him  and  dress  him  up  in  some  of  yours  that's 
dry." 

Buck  looked  about  as  old  as  me— thirteen  or  four- 

i35 


MARK  TWAIN 


teen  or  along  there,  though  he  was  a  little  biggef 
than  me.  He  hadn't  on  anything  but  a  shirt,  and 
he  was  very  frowzy-headed.  He  came  in  gaping  and 
digging  one  fist  into  his  eyes,  and  he  was  dragging 
a  gun  along  with  the  other  one.    He  says: 

4 4 Ain't  they  no  Shepherdsons  around?" 

They  said,  no,  'twas  a  false  alarm. 

"Well,"  he  says,  "if  they'd  'a'  ben  some,  I  reckon 
I'd  'a'  got  one." 

They  all  laughed,  and  Bob  says: 

"Why,  Buck,  they  might  have  scalped  us  all, 
you've  been  so  slow  in  coming." 

"Well,  nobody  come  after  me,  and  it  ain't  righto 
I'm  always  kept  down;  I  don't  get  no  show." 

"Never  mind,  Buck,  my  boy,"  says  the  old  man, 
"you'll  have  show  enough,  all  in  good  time,  don't 
you  fret  about  that,  Go  'long  with  you  now,  and 
do  as  your  mother  told  you." 

When  we  got  up=stairs  to  his  room  he  got  me  a 
coarse  shirt  and  a  roundabout  and  pants  of  his,  and 
I  put  them  on.  While  I  was  at  it  he  asked  me  what 
my  name  was,  but  before  I  could  tell  him  he  started 
to  tell  me  about  a  blue  jay  and  a  young  rabbit  he  had 
catched  in  the  woods  day  before  yesterday,  and  he 
asked  me  where  Moses  was  when  the  candle  went 
out,  I  said  I  didn't  know;  I  hadn't  heard  about  it 
before,  no  way. 

"Well,  guess,"  he  says, 

"How'm  I  going  to  guess,"  says  I,  "when  I  nevef 
heard  tell  of  it  before?" 

4  *  But  you  can  guess,  can't  you  ?  It's  just  as  easy.!"5 
"Which  candle?"  I  says.  " 

136 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Why,  any  candle,"  he  says. 
"I  don't  know  where  he  was/*  says  I;  "where 
Was  he?" 

* '  Why,  he  was  in  the  dark!  That's  where  he  was !" 

"Well,  if  you  knowed  where  he  was,  what  did  you 
ask  me  for?" 

"Why,  blame  it,  it's  a  riddle,  don't  you  see?  Say, 
how  long  are  you  going  to  stay  here?  You  got  to 
stay  always.  We  can  just  have  booming  times—they 
don't  have  no  school  now.  Do  you  own  a  dog? 
I've  got  a  dog—and  he'll  go  in  the  river  and  bring 
out  chips  that  you  throw  in.  Do  you  like  to  comb 
up  Sundays,  and  all  that  kind  of  foolishness?  You 
bet  I  don't,  but  ma  she  makes  me.  Confound  these 
ole  britches!  I  reckon  I'd  better  put  'em  on,  but 
I'd  ruther  not,  it's  so  warm.  Are  you  all  ready? 
All  right,    Come  along,  old  hoss." 

Cold  corn-pone,  cold  corn-beef,  butter  and  butter- 
milk—that is  what  they  had  for  me  down  there,  and 
there  ain't  nothing  better  that  ever  I've  come  across 
yet.  Buck  and  his  ma  and  all  of  them  smoked  cob 
pipes,  except  the  nigger  woman,  which  was  gone,  and 
the  two  young  women.  They  all  smoked  and  talked, 
and  I  eat  and  talked.  The  young  women  had  quilts 
around  them,  and  their  hair  down  their  backs.  They 
all  asked  me  questions,  and  I  told  them  how  pap  and 
me  and  all  the  family  was  living  on  a  little  farm  down 
at  the  bottom  of  Arkansaw,  and  my  sister  Mary  Ann 
run  off  and  got  married  and  never  was  heard  of  no 
more,  and  Bill  went  to  hunt  them  and  he  warn't 
heard  of  no  more,  and  Tom  and  Mort  died,  and  then 
there  warn't  nobody  but  just  me  and  pap  left,  and  he 

m 


MARK  TWAIN 


was  just  trimmed  down  to  nothing,  on  account  of  his 
troubles ;  so  when  he  died  I  took  what  there  was  left, 
because  the  farm  didn't  belong  to  us,  and  started  up 
the  river,  deck  passage,  and  fell  overboard ;  and  that 
was  how  I  come  to  be  here.  So  they  said  I  could 
have  a  home  there  as  long  as  I  wanted  it.  Then  it 
was  most  daylight  and  everybody  went  to  bed,  and  I 
went  to  bed  with  Buck,  and  when  I  waked  up  in  the 
morning,  drat  it  all,  I  had  forgot  what  my  name  was. 
So  I  laid  there  about  an  hour  trying  to  think,  and 
when  Buck  waked  up  I  says: 

"Can  you  spell,  Buck?" 

"Yes,"  he  says. 

"I  bet  you  can't  spell  my  name,"  says  I. 

"I  bet  you  what  you  dare  I  can,"  says  he. 

"All  right,"  says  I,  "go  ahead." 

"G-e-o-r-g-e  J-a-x-o-n — there  now,"  he  says. 

"Well,"  says  I,  "you  done  it,  but  I  didn't  think 
you  could.  It  ain't  no  slouch  of  a  name  to  spell — 
right  off  without  studying." 

I  set  it  down,  private,  because  somebody  might 
want  me  to  spell  it  next,  and  so  I  wanted  to  be  handy 
with  it  and  rattle  it  off  like  I  was  used  to  it. 

It  was  a  mighty  nice  family,  and  a  mighty  nice 
house,  too.  I  hadn't  seen  no  house  out  in  the  coun- 
try before  that  was  so  nice  and  had  so  much  style. 
It  didn't  have  an  iron  latch  on  the  front  door,  nor  a 
wooden  one  with  a  buckskin  string,  but  a  brass  knob 
to  turn,  the  same  as  houses  in  town.  There  warn't  no 
bed  in  the  parlor,  nor  a  sign  of  a  bed ;  but  heaps  of 
parlors  in  towns  has  beds  in  them.  There  was  a  big 
fireplace  that  was  bricked  on  the  bottom,  and  the 

138 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


bricks  was  kept  clean  and  red  by  pouring  water  on 
them  and  scrubbing  them  with  another  brick ;  some- 
times they  wash  them  over  with  red  water-paint  that 
they  call  Spanish-brown,  same  as  they  do  in  town. 
They  had  big  brass  dog-irons  that  could  hold  up  a 
saw-log.  There  was  a  clock  on  the  middle  of  the 
mantelpiece,  with  a  picture  of  a  town  painted  on  the 
bottom  half  of  the  glass  front,  and  a  round  place  in 
the  middle  of  it  for  the  sun,  and  you  could  see  the 
pendulum  swinging  behind  it.  It  was  beautiful  to 
hear  that  clock  tick;  and  sometimes  when  one  of 
these  peddlers  had  been  along  and  scoured  her  up  and 
got  her  in  good  shape,  she  would  start  in  and  strike 
a  hundred  and  fifty  before  she  got  tuckered  out. 
They  wouldn't  took  any  money  for  her. 

Well,  there  was  a  big  outlandish  parrot  on  each 
side  of  the  clock,  made  out  of  something  like  chalk, 
and  painted  up  gaudy.  By  one  of  the  parrots  was  a 
cat  made  of  crockery,  and  a  crockery  dog  by  the 
other;  and  when  you  pressed  down  on  them  they 
squeaked,  but  didn't  open  their  mouths  nor  look 
different  nor  interested.  They  squeaked  through 
underneath.  There  was  a  couple  of  big  wild- turkey- 
wing  fans  spread  out  behind  those  things.  On  the 
table  in  the  middle  of  the  room  was  a  kind  of  a 
lovely  crockery  basket  that  had  apples  and  oranges 
and  peaches  and  grapes  piled  up  in  it,  which  was 
much  redder  and  yellower  and  prettier  than  real 
ones  is,  but  they  warn't  real  because  you  could  see 
where  pieces  had  got  chipped  off  and  showed  the 
white  chalk,  or  whatever  it  was,  underneath. 

This  table  had  a  cover  made  out  of  beautiful  oil- 

139 


MARK  TWAIN 

cloth,  with  a  red  and  blue  spread-eagle  painted  on  it, 
and  a  painted  border  all  around.  It  come  all  the  way 
from  Philadelphia,  they  said.  There  was  some  books, 
too,  piled  up  perfectly  exact,  on  each  corner  of  the 
table.  One  was  a  big  family  Bible  full  of  pictures. 
One  was  Pilgrim's  Progress,  about  a  man  that  left  his 
family,  it  didn't  say  why.  I  read  considerable  in  it 
now  and  then.  The  statements  was  interesting,  but 
tough.  Another  was  Friendship's  Offering,  full  of 
beautiful  stuff  and  poetry;  but  I  didn't  read  the 
poetry.  Another  was  Henry  Clay's  Speeches,  and 
^another  was  Dr.  Gunn's  Family  Medicine,  which  told 
you  all  about  what  to  do  if  a  body  was  sick  or  dead. 
There  was  a  hymn-book,  and  a  lot  of  other  books. 
And  there  was  nice  split-bottom  chairs,  and  per- 
fectly sound,  too — not  bagged  down  in  the  middle 
and  busted,  like  an  old  basket. 

They  had  pictures  hung  on  the  walls — mainly 
Washingtons  and  Lafayettes,  and  battles,  and  High- 
land Marys,  and  one  called  "Signing  the  Declara- 
tion." There  was  some  that  they  called  crayons, 
which  one  of  the  daughters  which  was  dead  made  her 
own  self  when  she  was  only  fifteen  years  old.  They 
was  different  from  any  pictures  I  ever  see  before — 
blacker,  mostly,  than  is  common.  One  was  a  woman 
in  a  slim  black  dress,  belted  small  under  the  armpits, 
with  bulges  like  a  cabbage  in  the  middle  of  the 
sleeves,  and  a  large  black  scoop-shovel  bonnet  with 
a  black  veil,  and  white  slim  ankles  crossed  about 
with  black  tape,  and  very  wee  black  slippers,  like  a 
chisel,  and  she  was  leaning  pensive  on  a  tombstone 
on  her  right  elbow,  under  a  weeping  willow,  and  her 

140 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

other  hand  hanging  down  her  side  holding  a  white 
handkerchief  and  a  reticule,  and  underneath  the 
picture  it  said  " Shall  I  Never  See  Thee  More  Alas." 
Another  one  was  a  young  lady  with  her  hair  all 
combed  up  straight  to  the  top  of  her  head,  and 
knotted  there  in  front  of  a  comb  like  a  chair-back,  and 
she  was  crying  into  a  handkerchief  and  had  a  dead 
bird  laying  on  its  back  in  her  other  hand  with  its  heels 
up,  and  underneath  the  picture  it  said  "I  Shall  Never 
Hear  Thy  Sweet  Chirrup  More  Alas. ' '  There  was  one 
where  a  young  lady  was  at  a  window  looking  up  at  the 
moon,  and  tears  running  down  her  cheeks;  and  she 
had  an  open  letter  in  one  hand  with  black  sealing- 
wax  showing  on  one  edge  of  it,  and  she  was  mashing  a 
locket  with  a  chain  to  it  against  her  mouth,  and  under- 
neath the  picture  it  said  "And  Art  Thou  Gone  Yes 
Thou  Art  Gone  Alas."  These  was  all  nice  pictures,  I 
reckon,  but  I  didn't  somehow  seem  to  take  to  them, 
because  if  ever  I  was  down  a  little  they  always  give 
me  the  fan-tods.  Everybody  was  sorry  she  died, 
because  she  had  laid  out  a  lot  more  of  these  pictures 
to  do,  and  a  body  could  see  by  what  she  had  done 
what  they  had  lost.  But  I  reckoned  that  with  her 
disposition  she  was  having  a  better  time  in  the 
graveyard.  She  was  at  work  on  what  they  said  was1 
her  greatest  picture  when  she  took  sick,  and  every 
day  and  every  night  it  was  her  prayer  to  be  allowed 
to  live  till  she  got  it  done,  but  she  never  got  the 
chance.  It  was  a  picture  of  a  young  woman  in  a  long 
white  gown,  standing  on  the  rail  of  a  bridge  all 
ready  to  jump  off,  with  her  hair  all  down  her  back, 
and  looking  up  to  the  moon,  with  the  tears  running 

141 


MARK  TWAIN 


down  her  face,  and  she  had  two  arms  folded  across 
her  breast,  and  two  arms  stretched  out  in  front,  and 
two  more  reaching  up  toward  the  moon — and  the 
idea  was  to  see  which  pair  would  look  best,  and 
then  scratch  out  all  the  other  arms;  but,  as  I  was 
saying,  she  died  before  she  got  her  mind  made  up, 
and  now  they  kept  this  picture  over  the  head  of  the 
bed  in  her  room,  and  every  time  her  birthday  come 
they  hung  flowers  on  it.  Other  times  it  was  hid  with 
a  little  curtain.  The  young  woman  in  the  picture 
had  a  kind  of  a  nice  sweet  face,  but  there  was  so 
many  arms  it  made  her  look  too  spidery,  seemed  to 
me. 

This  young  girl  kept  a  scrap-book  when  she  was 
alive,  and  used  to  paste  obituaries  and  accidents  and 
cases  of  patient  suffering  in  it  out  of  the  Presbyterian 
Observer,  and  write  poetry  after  them  out  of  her  own 
head.  It  was  very  good  poetry.  This  is  what  she 
wrote  about  a  boy  by  the  name  of  Stephen  Dowling 
Bots  that  fell  down  a  well  and  was  drownded : 

ODE  TO  STEPHEN  DOWLING  BOTS,  DEC'D 

And  did  young  Stephen  sicken, 

And  did  young  Stephen  die? 
And  did  the  sad  hearts  thicken, 

And  did  the  mourners  cry? 

No;  such  was  not  the  fate  of 

Young  Stephen  Dowling  Bots; 
Though  sad  hearts  round  him  thickened, 

'Twas  not  from  sickness'  shots. 

No  whooping-cough  did  rack  his  frame, 
Nor  measles  drear  with  spots; 
142 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Not  these  impaired  the  sacred  name 
Of  Stephen  Dowling  Bots. 

Despised  love  struck  not  with  woe 

That  head  of  curly  knots, 
Nor  stomach  troubles  laid  him  low, 

Young  Stephen  Dowling  Bots. 

O  no.    Then  list  with  tearful  eye, 

Whilst  I  his  fate  do  tell. 
His  soul  did  from  this  cold  world  fly 

By  falling  down  a  well. 

They  got  him  out  and  emptied  him; 

Alas  it  was  too  late; 
His  spirit  was  gone  for  to  sport  aloft 

In  the  realms  of  the  good  and  great. 

If  Emmeline  Grangerford  could  make  poetry  like 
that  before  she  was  fourteen,  there  ain't  no  telling 
what  she  could  'a'  done  by  and  by.  Buck  said  she 
could  rattle  off  poetry  like  nothing.  She  didn't  ever 
have  to  stop  to  think.  He  said  she  would  slap  down 
a  line,  and  if  she  couldn't  find  anything  to  rhyme 
with  it  would  just  scratch  it  out  and  slap  down  an- 
other one,  and  go  ahead.  She  warn't  particular;  she 
could  write  about  anything  you  choose  to  give  her 
to  write  about  just  so  it  was  sadful.  Every  time  a 
man  died,  or  a  woman  died,  or  a  child  died,  she 
would  be  on  hand  with  her  1  'tribute"  before  he  was 
cold.  She  called  them  tributes.  The  neighbors  said 
it  was  the  doctor  first,  then  Emmeline,  then  the 
undertaker — the  undertaker  never  got  in  ahead  of 
Emmeline  but  once,  and  then  she  hung  fire  on  a 
rhyme  for  the  dead  person's  name,  which  was 

143 


MARK  TWAIN 

Whistler.  She  warn't  ever  the  same  after  that;  she 
never  complained,  but  she  kinder  pined  away  and 
did  not  live  long.  Poor  thing,  many's  the  time  I 
made  myself  go  up  to  the  little  room  that  used  to 
be  hers  and  get  out  her  poor  old  scrap-book  and 
read  in  it  when  her  pictures  had  been  aggravating 
me  and  I  had  soured  on  her  a  little.  I  liked  all 
that  family,  dead  ones  and  all,  and  warn't  going  to 
let  anything  come  between  us.  Poor  Emmeline 
made  poetry  about  all  the  dead  people  when  she 
was  alive,  and  it  didn't  seem  right  that  there  warn't 
nobody  to  make  some  about  her  now  she  was  gone; 
so  I  tried  to  sweat  out  a  verse  or  two  myself,  but  I 
couldn't  seem  to  make  it  go  somehow.  They  kept 
Emmeline's  room  trim  and  nice,  and  all  the  things 
fixed  in  it  just  the  way  she  liked  to  have  them  when 
she  was  alive,  and  nobody  ever  slept  there.  The 
old  lady  took  care  of  the  room  herself,  though 
there  was  plenty  of  niggers,  and  she  sewed  there  a 
good  deal  and  read  her  Bible  there  mostly. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying  about  the  parlor,  there  was 
beautiful  curtains  on  the  windows:  white,  with 
pictures  painted  on  them  of  castles  with  vines  all 
down  the  walls,  and  cattle  coming  down  to  drink. 
There  was  a  little  old  piano,  too,  that  had  tin  pans 
in  it,  I  reckon,  and  nothing  was  ever  so  lovely  as 
to  hear  the  young  ladies  sing  "The  Last  Link  is 
Broken"  and  play  "The  Battle  of  Prague"  on  it. 
The  walls  of  all  the  rooms  was  plastered,  and  most 
had  carpets  on  the  floors,  and  the  whole  house  was 
whitewashed  on  the  outside. 

It  was  a  double  house,  and  the  big  open  place 

144 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

betwixt  them  was  roofed  and  floored,  and  some- 
times the  table  was  set  there  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  and  it  was  a  cool,  comfortable  place.  Nothing 
couldn't  be  better.  And  warn't  the  cooking  good, 
and  just  bushels  of  it  too> 


145 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


COL.  GRANGERFORD  was  a  gentleman,  you 
see.  He  was  a  gentleman  all  over;  and  so  was 
his  family.  He  was  well  born,  as  the  saying  is,  and 
that's  worth  as  much  in  a  man  as  it  is  in  a  horse,  so 
the  Widow  Douglas  said,  and  nobody  ever  denied 
that  she  was  of  the  first  aristocracy  in  our  town ;  and 
pap  he  always  said  it,  too,  though  he  wam't  no 
more  quality  than  a  mudcat  himself.  Col.  Granger- 
ford  was  very  tall  and  very  slim,  and  had  a  darkish- 
paly  complexion,  not  a  sign  of  red  in  it  anywheres; 
he  was  clean-shaved  every  morning  all  over  his  thin 
face,  and  he  had  the  thinnest  kind  of  lips,  and  the 
thinnest  kind  of  nostrils,  and  a  high  nose,  and  heavy 
eyebrows,  and  the  blackest  kind  of  eyes,  sunk  so 
deep  back  that  they  seemed  like  they  was  looking 
out  of  caverns  at  you,  as  you  may  say.  His  forehead 
was  high,  and  his  hair  was  gray  and  straight  and 
kung  to  his  shoulders.  His  hands  was  long  and  thin, 
-and  every  day  of  his  life  he  put  on  a  clean  shirt  and 
A  full  suit  from  head  to  foot  made  out  of  linen  so 
white  it  hurt  your  eyes  to  look  at  it ;  and  on  Sundays 
he  wore  a  blue  tail-coat  with  brass  buttons  on  it. 
He  carried  a  mahogany  cane  with  a  silver  head  t§ 
it.  There  warn't  no  frivolishness  about  him,  not  a 
bit,  and  he  warn't  ever  loud.    He  was  as  kind  as^ 

146 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


he  could  be — you  could  feel  that,  you  know,  and  so 
you  had  confidence.  Sometimes  he  smiled,  and  it 
was  good  to  see;  but  when  he  straightened  himself 
up  like  a  liberty-pole,  and  the  lightning  begun  to 
flicker  out  from  under  his  eyebrows,  you  wanted  to 
climb  a  tree  first,  and  find  out  what  the  matter  was 
afterwards.  He  didn't  ever  have  to  tell  anybody  to 
mind  their  manners — everybody  was  always  good- 
mannered  where  he  was.  Everybody  loved  to  have 
him  around,  too;  he  was  sunshine  most  always — I 
mean  he  made  it  seem  like  good  weather.  When  he 
turned  into  a  cloud-bank  it  was  awful  dark  for  half  a 
minute,  and  that  was  enough ;  there  wouldn't  nothing 
go  wrong  again  for  a  week. 

When  him  and  the  old  lady  come  down  in  the 
morning  all  the  family  got  up  out  of  their  chairs  and 
give  them  good  day,  and  didn't  set  down  again  till 
they  had  set  down.  Then  Tom  and  Bob  went  to 
the  sideboard  where  the  decanter  was,  and  mixed  a 
glass  of  bitters  and  handed  it  to  him,  and  he  held  it 
in  his  hand  and  waited  till  Tom's  and  Bob's  was 
mixed,  and  then  they  bowed  and  said,  "Our  duty  to 
you,  sir,  and  madam";  and  they  bowed  the  least  bit 
in  the  world  and  said  thank  you,  and  so  they  drank, 
all  three,  and  Bob  and  Tom  poured  a  spoonful  of 
water  on  the  sugar  and  the  mite  of  whisky  or  apple- 
brandy in  the  bottom  of  their  tumblers,  and  give  it 
to  me  and  Buck,  and  we  drank  to  the  old  people  too. 

Bob  was  the  oldest  and  Tom  next — tall,  beautiful 
men  with  very  broad  shoulders  and  brown  faces,  and 
long  black  hair  and  black  eyes.    They  dressed  in 

147. 


MARK  TWAIN 


white  linen  from  head  to  foot,  like  the  old  gentle* 
man,  and  wore  broad  Panama  hats, 

Then  there  was  Miss  Charlotte;  she  was  twenty- 
five,  and  tall  and  proud  and  grand,  but  as  good  as 
she  could  be  when  she  warn't  stirred  up;  but  when 
she  was  she  had  a  look  that  would  make  you  wilt  in 
your  tracks,  like  her  father.    She  was  beautiful. 

So  was  her  sister,  Miss  Sophia,  but  it  was  a  different 
kind.  She  was  gentle  and  sweet  like  a  dove,  and  she 
was  only  twenty. 

Each  person  had  their  own  nigger  to  wait  on  them 
—Buck  too.  My  nigger  had  a  monstrous  easy  time, 
because  I  warn't  used  to  having  anybody  do  any- 
thing for  me,  but  Buck's  was  on  the  jump  most  of 
the  time. 

This  was  all  there  was  of  the  family  now,  but 
there  used  to  be  more — three  sons;  they  got  killed; 
and  Emmeline  that  died. 

The  old  gentleman  owned  a  lot  of  farms  and  over 
a  hundred  niggers.  Sometimes  a  stack  of  people 
would  come  there,  horseback,  from  ten  or  fifteen 
mile  around,  and  stay  five  or  six  days,  and  have 
such  junketings  round  about  and  on  the  river,  and 
dances  and  picnics  in  the  woods  daytimes,  and  balls 
at  the  house  nights.  These  people  was  mostly  kin- 
folks  of  the  family.  The  men  brought  their  guns 
with  them.  It  was  a  handsome  lot  of  quality,  I 
tell  you. 

There  was  another  clan  of  aristocracy  around  there 
—five  or  six  families — mostly  of  the  name  of  Shep- 
herdson.  They  was  as  high-toned  and  well  born  and 
rich  and  grand  as  the  tribe  of  Grangerfordso  The 

%4& 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Shepfierdsons  and  Grangerfords  used  the  same 
steamboat-landing,  which  was  about  two  mile  above 
our  house;  so  sometimes  when  I  went  up  there  with 
a  lot  of  our  folks  I  used  to  see  a  lot  of  the  Shepherd- 
sons  there  on  their  fine  horses. 

One  day  Buck  and  me  was  away  out  in  the  woods 
hunting,  and  heard  a  horse  coming.  We  was  cross- 
ing the  road.    Buck  says: 

' ' Quick!    Jump  for  the  woods!'* 

We  done  it,  and  then  peeped  down  the  woods 
through  the  leaves.  Pretty  soon  a  splendid  young 
man  came  galloping  down  the  road,  setting  his 
horse  easy  and  looking  like  a  soldier.  He  had  his 
gun  across  his  pommel.  I  had  seen  him  before.  It 
was  young  Harney  Shepherdson.  I  heard  Buck's 
gun  go  off  at  my  ear,  and  Harney's  hat  tumbled  off 
from  his  head.  He  grabbed  his  gun  and  rode  straight 
to  the  place  where  we  was  hid.  But  we  didn't  wait. 
We  started  through  the  woods  on  a  run.  The  woods 
warn't  thick,  so  I  looked  over  my  shoulder  to  dodge 
the  bullet,  and  twice  I  seen  Harney  cover  Buck  with 
his  gun;  and  then  he  rode  away  the  way  he  come — ■ 
to  get  his  hat,  I  reckon,  but  I  couldn't  see.  We 
never  stopped  running  till  we  got  home.  The  old 
gentleman's  eyes  blazed  a  minute— 'twas  pleasure, 
mainly,  I  judged — then  his  face  sort  of  smoothed 
down,  and  he  says,  kind  of  gentle: 

"I  don't  like,  that  shooting  from  behind  a  bush, 
Why  didn't  you  step  into  the  road,  my  boy?" 

"The  Shepherdsons  don't,  father.  They  always 
take  advantage." 

Miss  Charlotte  she  held  her  head  up  like  a  queen 
149 


MARK  TWAIN 


while  Buck  was  telling  his  tale,  and  her  nostrils 
spread  and  her  eyes  snapped.  The  two  young  men 
looked  dark,  but  never  said  nothing.  Miss  Sophia 
she  turned  pale,  but  the  color  come  back  when  she 
found  the  man  warn't  hurt. 

Soon  as  I  could  get  Buck  down  by  the  corn-cribs 
under  the  trees  by  ourselves,  I  says: 

"Did  you  want  to  kill  him,  Buck?" 

"Well  I  bet  I  did." 

"What  did  he  do  to  you?" 

"Him?    He  never  done  nothing  to  me.M 

"Well,  then,  what  did  you  want  to  kill  him  for?n 

"Why,  nothing — only  it's  on  account  of  the  feud." 

"What's  a  feud?" 

"Why,  where  was  you  raised?  Don't  you  know 
what  a  feud  is?" 

"Never  heard  of  it  before — tell  me  about  it." 

"Well,"  says  Buck,  "a  feud  is  this  way:  A  man 
has  a  quarrel  with  another  man,  and  kills  him;  then 
that  other  man's  brother  kills  him;  then  the  other 
brothers,  on  both  sides,  goes  for  one  another;  then 
the  cousins  chip  in — and  by  and  by  everybody's 
killed  off,  and  there  ain't  no  more  feud.  But  it's 
kind  of  slow,  and  takes  a  long  time." 

"Has  this  one  been  going  on  long,  Buck?" 

"Well,  I  should  reckon!  It  started  thirty  year 
ago,  or  som'ers  along  there.  There  was  trouble 
'bout  something,  and  then  a  lawsuit  to  settle  it ;  and 
the  suit  went  agin  one  of  the  men,  and  so  he  up  and 
shot  the  man  that  won  the  suit — which  he  would 
naturally  do,  of  course.    Anybody  would." 

"What  was  the  trouble  about,  Buck? — land?" 

ISO 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"I  reckon  maybe — I  don't  know." 
' 1  Well,  who  done  the  shooting  ?   Was  it  a  Granger- 
ford  or  a  Shepherdson?" 

"Laws,  how  do  I  know?    It  was  so  long  ago." 
"Don't  anybody  know?" 

"Oh,  yes,  pa  knows,  I  reckon,  and  some  of  the 
other  old  people ;  but  they  don't  know  now  what  the 
row  was  about  in  the  first  place." 

"Has  there  been  many  killed,  Buck?" 

"Yes;  right  smart  chance  of  funerals.  But  they 
don't  always  kill.  Pa's  got  a  few  buckshot  in  him; 
but  he  don't  mind  it  'cuz  he  don't  weigh  much, 
anyway.  Bob's  been  carved  up  some  with  a  bowie, 
and  Tom's  been  hurt  once  or  twice." 

"Has  anybody  been  killed  this  year,  Buck?" 

"Yes;  we  got  one  and  they  got  one.  'Bout  three 
months  ago  my  cousin  Bud,  fourteen  year  old,  was 
riding  through  the  woods  on  t'other  side  of  the 
river,  and  didn't  have  no  weapon  with  him,  which 
was  blame'  foolishness,  and  in  a  lonesome  place  he 
hears  a  horse  a-coming  behind  him,  and  sees  old 
Baldy  Shepherdson  a-linkin'  after  him  with  his  gun 
in  his  hand  and  his  white  hair  a-flying  in  the  wind; 
and  'stead  of  jumping  off  and  taking  to  the  brush, 
Bud  'lowed  he  could  outrun  him;  so  they  had  it, 
nip  and  tuck,  for  five  mile  or  more,  the  old  man 
a-gaining  all  the  time;  so  at  last  Bud  seen  it  warn't 
any  use,  so  he  stopped  and  faced  around  so  as  to 
have  the  bullet -holes  in  front,  you  know,  and  the 
old  man  he  rode  up  and  shot  him  down.  But  he 
didn't  git  much  chance  to  enjoy  his  luck,  for  inside 
of  a  week  our  folks  laid  him  out." 


MARK  TWAIN 


"I  reckon  that  old  man  was  a  coward,  Buck." 

"I  reckon  he  warn't  a  coward.  Not  by  a  blame* 
sight.  There  ain't  a  coward  amongst  them  Shep- 
herdsons— not  a  one.  And  there  ain't  no  cowards 
amongst  the  Grangerfords  either.  Why,  that  old 
man  kep*  up  his  end  in  a  fight  one  day  for  half  an 
hour  against  three  Grangerfords,  and  come  out 
winner.  They  was  all  a-horseback;  he  lit  off  of  his 
horse  and  got  behind  a  little  woodpile,  and  kep'  his 
horse  before  him  to  stop  the  bullets ;  but  the  Granger- 
fords stayed  on  their  horses  and  capered  around 
the  old  man,  and  peppered  away  at  him,  and  he 
peppered  away  at  them.  Him  and  his  horse  both 
went  home  pretty  leaky  and  crippled,  but  the 
Grangerfords  had  to  be  fetched  home — and  one  of 
'em  was  dead,  and  another  died  the  next  day.  No, 
sir;  if  a  body's  out  hunting  for  cowards  he  don't  want 
to  fool  away  any  time  amongst  them  Shepherdsons, 
becuz  they  don't  breed  any  of  that  kind.11 

Next  Sunday  we  all  went  to  church,  about  three 
mile,  everybody  a-horseback.  The  men  took  their 
guns  along,  so  did  Buck,  and  kept  them  between  their 
knees  or  stood  them  handy  against  the  wall.  The 
Shepherdsons  done  the  same.  It  was  pretty  ornery 
preaching — all  about  brotherly  love,  and  such-like 
tiresomeness;  but  everybody  said  it  was  a  good  ser- 
mon, and  they  all  talked  it  over  going  home,  and  had 
such  a  powerful  lot  to  say  about  faith  and  good  works 
and  free  grace  and  preforeordestination,  and  I  don't 
know  what  all,  that  it  did  seem  to  me  to  be  one  of  the 
roughest  Sundays  I  had  run  across  yet. 

About  an  hotir  after  dinner  everybody  was  dozing 

152 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

around,  some  in  their  chairs  and  some  in  their  rooms, 
and  it  got  to  be  pretty  dull.  Buck  and  a  dog  was 
stretched  out  on  the  grass  in  the  sun  sound  asleep.  I 
went  up  to  our  room,  and  judged  I  would  take  a  nap 
myself.  I  found  that  sweet  Miss  Sophia  standing  in 
her  door,  which  was  next  to  ours,  and  she  took  me  in 
her  room  and  shut  the  door  very  soft,  and  asked  me  if 
I  liked  her,  and  I  said  I  did;  and  she  asked  me  if  I 
would  do  something  for  her  and  not  tell  anybody, 
and  I  said  I  would.  Then  she  said  she'd  forgot  her 
Testament,  and  left  it  in  the  seat  at  church  between 
two  other  books,  and  would  I  slip  out  quiet  and  go 
there  and  fetch  it  to  her,  and  not  say  nothing  to  no- 
body. I  said  I  would.  So  I  slid  out  and  slipped  off 
up  the  road,  and  there  warn't  anybody  at  the  church, 
except  maybe  a  hog  or  two,  for  there  warn't  any  lock 
on  the  door,  and  hogs  likes  a  puncheon  floor  in  sum- 
mer-time because  it's  cool.  If  you  notice,  most 
folks  don't  go  to  church  only  when  they've  got  to; 
but  a  hog  is  different. 

Says  I  to  myself,  something's  up;  it  ain't  natural 
for  a  girl  to  be  in  such  a  sweat  about  a  Testament. 
So  I  give  it  a  shake,  and  out  drops  a  little  piece  of 
paper  with  "Half  past  two"  wrote  on  it  with  a  pencil. 
I  ransacked  it,  but  couldn't  find  anything  else.  I 
couldn't  make  anything  out  of  that,  so  I  put  the  paper 
in  the  book  again,  and  when  I  got  home  and  up- 
stairs there  was  Miss  Sophia  in  her  door  waiting  for 
me.  She  pulled  me  in  and  shut  the  door;  then  she 
looked  imthe  Testament  till  she  found  the  paper,  and 
as  soon  as  she  read  it  she  looked  glad;  and  before  a 
body  could  think  she  grabbed  me  and  give  me  a 

153 


MARK  TWAIN 


squeeze,  and  said  I  was  the  best  boy  in  the  world, 
and  not  to  tell  anybody.  She  was  mighty  red  in  the' 
face  for  a  minute,  and  her  eyes  lighted  up,  and  it 
made  her  powerful  pretty.  I  was  a  good  deal  as- 
tonished, but  when  I  got  my  breath  I  asked  her 
what  the  paper  was  about,  and  she  asked  me  if  I  had 
read  it,  and  I  said  no,  and  she  asked  me  if  I  could 
read  writing,  and  I  told  her  "no,  only  coarse-hand," 
and  then  she  said  the  paper  warn't  anything  but  a 
book-mark  to  keep  her  place,  and  I  might  go  and 
play  now. 

I  went  off  down  to  the  river,  studying  over  this 
thing,  and  pretty  soon  I  noticed  that  my  nigger  was 
following  along  behind.  When  we  was  out  of  sight 
of  the  house  he  looked  back  and  around  a  second,  and 
then  comes  a-running,  and  says: 

"Mars  Jawge,  if  you'll  come  down  into  de  swamp 
I'll  show  you  a  whole  stack  o'  water-moccasins." 

Thinks  I,  that's  mighty  curious;  he  said  that  yes- 
terday. He  oughter  know  a  body  don't  love  water- 
moccasins  enough  to  go  around  hunting  for  them. 
What  is  he  up  to,  anyway?    So  I  says: 

"All  right;  trot  ahead." 

I  followed  a  half  a  mile ;  then  he  struck  out  over  the 
swamp,  and  waded  ankle-deep  as  much  as  another 
half-mile.  We  come  to  a  little  flat  piece  of  land 
which  was  dry  and  very  thick  with  trees  and  bushes 
and  vines,  and  he  says: 

"You  shove  right  in  dah  jist  a  few  steps,  Mars 
Jawge;  dah's  whah  dey  is.  I's  seed  'm  befoy;  I 
don't  k'yer  to  see  'em  no  mo'." 

Then  he  slopped  right  along  and  went  away,  and 

J  54 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


pretty  soon  the  trees  hid  him.  I  poked  into  the 
place  a  ways  and  come  to  a  little  open  patch  as  big  as 
a  bedroom  all  hung  around  with  vines,  and  found  a 
man  laying  there  asleep—and,  by  jings,  it  was  my 
old  Jim! 

I  waked  him  up,  and  I  reckoned  it  was  going  to  be 
a  grand  surprise  to  him  to  see  me  again,  but  it  warn't. 
He  nearly  cried  he  was  so  glad,  but  he  warn't  sur- 
prised. Said  he  swum  along  behind  me  that  night, 
and  heard  me  yell  every  time,  but  dasn't  answer,  be- 
cause he  didn't  want  nobody  to  pick  him  up  and  take 
him  into  slavery  again.    Says  he: 

"I  got  hurt  a  little,  en  couldn't  swim  fas',  so  I  wuz 
a  considerable  ways  behine  you  towards  de  las' ;  when 
you  landed  I  reck'ned  I  could  ketch  up  wid  you  on  de 
Ian*  'dout  havin'  to  shout  at  you,  but  when  I  see  dat 
house  I  begin  to  go  slow.  I  'uz  of!  too  fur  to  hear 
what  dey  say  to  you — I  wuz  'fraid  o'  de  dogs;  but 
when  it  'uz  all  quiet  ag'in  I  knowed  you's  in  de  house, 
so  I  struck  out  for  de  woods  to  wait  for  day.  Early 
in  de  mawnin'  some  er  de  niggers  come  along,  gwyne 
to  de  fields,  en  dey  tuk  me  en  showed  me  dis  place, 
whah  de  dogs  can't  track  me  on  accounts  o'  de  water, 
en  dey  brings  me  truck  to  eat  every  night,  en  tells  me 
how  you's  a-gittin'  along." 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  my  Jack  to  fetch  me  here 
sooner,  Jim?" 

"Well,  'twarn't  no  use  to  'sturb  you,  Huck,  tell  we 
could  do  sumfn — but  we's  all  right  now.  I  ben  a- 
buyin'  pots  en  pans  en  vittles,  as  I  got  a  chanst,  en  a- 
patchin'  up  de  raf  nights  when — " 

"What  raft,  Jim?" 

tcc  M.T.-8-C 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Our  ole  raf\" 

"You  mean  to  say  our  old  raft  warn't  smashed  all 
to  flinders?" 

"No,  she  warn't.  She  was  tore  up  a  good  deal — 
one  en'  of  her  was;  but  dey  warn't  no  great  harm 
done,  on'y  our  traps  was  mos'  all  los\  Ef  we  hadn' 
dive'  so  deep  en  swum  so  fur  under  water,  en  de  night 
hadn't  ben  so  dark,  en  we  warn't  so  sk'yerd,  en  ben 
sich  punkin-heads,  as  de  sayin'  is,  we'd  a  seed  de  raf '. 
But  it's  jis'  as  well  we  didn't,  'kase  now  she's  all  fixed 
up  ag'in  mos'  as  good  as  new,  en  we's  got  a  new  lot 
o'  stuff,  in  de  place  o'  what  'uz  los'." 

"Why,  how  did  you  get  hold  of  the  raft  again, 
Jim — did  you  catch  her?" 

"How  I  gwyne  to  ketch  her  en  I  out  in  de  woods? 
No;  some  er  de  niggers  foun'  her  ketched  on  a  snag 
along  heah  in  de  ben',  en  dey  hid  her  in  a  crick 
'rnongst  de  willows,  en  dey  wuz  so  much  jawin'  'bout 
which  un  'urn  she  b'long  to  de  mos'  dat  I  come  to 
heah  'bout  it  pooty  soon,  so  I  tips  en  settles  de 
trouble  by  tellin'  'urn  she  don't  b'long  to  none  uv 
'urn,  but  to  you  en  me;  en  I  ast  'm  if  dey  gwyne  to 
grab  a  young  white  genlman's  propaty,  en  git  a 
hid'n  for  it?  Den  I  gin 'm  ten  cents  apiece,  en  dey 
'uz  mighty  well  satisfied,  en  wisht  some  mo'  raf's 
'ud  come  along  en  make 'm  rich  ag'in.  Dey's  mighty 
good  to  me,  dese  niggers  is,  en  whatever  I  wants 'm 
to  do  fur  me  I  doan'  have  to  ast  'm  twice,  honey. 
Dat  Jack's  a  good  nigger,  en  pooty  smart." 

"Yes,  he  is.  He  ain't  ever  told  me  you  was  here; 
told  me  to  come,  and  he'd  show  me  a  lot  of  water- 
moccasins.    If  anything  happens  he  ain't  mixed  up 

156 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


in  it.  He  can  say  he  never  seen  us  together,  and 
it  '11  be  the  truth." 

I  don't  want  to  talk  much  about  the  next  day.  I 
reckon  I'll  cut  it  pretty  short.  I  waked  up  about 
dawn,  and  was  a-going  to  turn  over  and  go  to 
sleep  again  when  I  noticed  how  still  it  was — didn't 
seem  to  be  anybody  stirring.  That  warn't  usual. 
Next  I  noticed  that  Buck  was  up  and  gone.  Well, 
I  gets  up,  a-wondering,  and  goes  down -stairs — ■ 
nobody  around ;  everything  as  still  as  a  mouse.  Just 
the  same  outside.  Thinks  I,  what  does  it  mean? 
Down  by  the  woodpile  I  comes  across  my  Jack, 
and  says: 

"What's  it  all  about?" 

Says  he : 

' 1  Don't  you  know,  Mars  Jawge?" 
"No,"  says  I,  "I  don't." 

4 'Well,  den,  Miss  Sophia's  run  off!  'deed  she  has. 
She  run  off  in  de  night  some  time — nobody  don't 
know  jis'  when;  run  off  to  get  married  to  dat  young 
Harney  Shepherdson,  you  know— leastways,  so  dey 
'spec.  De  fambly  foun'  it  out  'bout  half  an  hour 
ago — maybe  a  little  mo' — en'  I  tell  you  dey  warn't 
no  time  los\  Sich  another  hurry  in'  up  guns  en 
hosses  you  never  see!  De  women  folks  has  gone  for 
to  stir  up  de  relations,  en  ole  Mars  Saul  en  de  boys 
tuck  dey  guns  en  rode  up  de  river  road  for  to  try 
to  ketch  dat  young  man  en  kill  him  'fo'  he  kin  git 
acrost  de  river  wid  Miss  Sophia.  I  reck'n  dey's 
gwyne  to  be  mighty  rough  times." 

"Buck  went  off  'thout  waking  me  up." 

"Well,  I  reck'n  he  did!  Dey  warn't  gwyne  to 
i57 


MARK  TWAIN 


mix  you  up  in  it.  Mars  Buck  he  loaded  up  his 
gun  en  'lowed  he's  gwyne  to  fetch  home  a  Shepherd- 
son  or  bust.  Well,  dey'll  be  plenty  un  'm  dah,  I 
reck'n,  en  you  bet  you  he'll  fetch  one  ef  he  gits  a 
chanst." 

I  took  up  the  river  road  as  hard  as  I  could  put. 
By  and  by  I  begin  to  hear  guns  a  good  ways  off. 
When  I  came  in  sight  of  the  log  store  and  the  wood- 
pile where  the  steamboats  lands  I  worked  along 
under  the  trees  and  brush  till  I  got  to  a  good  place, 
and  then  I  clumb  up  into  the  forks  of  a  cottonwood 
that  was  out  of  reach,  and  watched.  There  was  a 
wood-rank  four  foot  high  a  little  ways  in  front  of 
the  tree,  and  first  I  was  going  to  hide  behind  that; 
but  maybe  it  was  luckier  I  didn't. 

There  was  four  or  five  men  cavorting  around  on 
their  horses  in  the  open  place  before  the  log  store, 
cussing  and  yelling,  and  trying  to  get  at  a  couple  of 
young  chaps  that  was  behind  the  wood-rank  along- 
side of  the  steamboat-landing;  but  they  couldn't 
come  it.  Every  time  one  of  them  showed  himself 
on  the  river  side  of  the  woodpile  he  got  shot  at. 
The  two  boys  was  squatting  back  to  back  behind  the 
pile,  so  they  could  watch  both  ways. 

By  and  by  the  men  stopped  cavorting  around 
and  yelling.  They  started  riding  towards  the 
store;  then  up  gets  one  of  the  boys,  draws  a  steady 
bead  over  the  wood-rank,  and  drops  one  of  them 
out  of  his  saddle.  All  the  men  jumped  off  of  their 
horses  and  grabbed  the  hurt  one  and  started  to  carry 
him  to  the  store;  and  that  minute  the  two  boys 
started  on  the  run.    They  got  half-way  to  the  tree 

158 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


I  was  in  before  the  men  noticed.  Then  the  men  see 
them,  and  jumped  on  their  horses  and  took  out 
after  them.  They  gained  on  the  boys,  but  it  didn't 
do  no  good,  the  boys  had  too  good  a  start;  they  got 
to  the  woodpile  that  was  in  front  of  my  tree,  and 
slipped  in  behind  it,  and  so  they  had  the  bulge  on 
the  men  again.  One  of  the  boys  was  Buck,  and  the 
other  was  a  slim  young  chap  about  nineteen  years  old. 

The  men  ripped  around  awhile,  and  then  rode 
away.  As  soon  as  they  was  out  of  sight  I  sung  out 
to  Buck  and  told  him.  He  didn't  know  what  to 
make  of  my  voice  coming  out  of  the  tree  at  first. 
He  was  awful  surprised.  He  told  me  to  watch  out 
sharp  and  let  him  know  when  the  men  come  in  sight 
again;  said  they  was  up  to  some  devilment  or  other 
— wouldn't  be  gone  long.  I  wished  I  was  out  of 
that  tree,  but  I  dasn't  come  down.  Buck  begun  to 
cry  and  rip,  and  lowed  that  him  and  his  cousin  Joe 
(that  was  the  other  young  chap)  would  make  up  for 
this  day  yet.  He  said  his  father  and  his  two  brothers 
was  killed,  and  two  or  three  of  the  enemy.  Said  the 
Shepherdsons  laid  for  them  in  ambush.  Buck  said 
his  father  and  brothers  ought  to  waited  for  their 
relations — the  Shepherdsons  was  too  strong  for 
them.  I  asked  him  what  was  become  of  young 
Harney  and  Miss  Sophia.  He  said  they'd  got  across 
the  river  and  was  safe.  I  was  glad  of  that;  but  the 
way  Buck  did  take  on  because  he  didn't  manage  to 
kill.  Harney  that  day  he  shot  at  him — I  hain't  ever 
heard  anything  like  it. 

All  of  a  sudden,  bang!  bang!  bang!  goes  three 
or  four  guns — the  men  had  slipped  around  through 

m 


MARK  TWAIN 


the  woods  and  come  in  from  behind  without  their 
horses!  The  boys  jumped  for  the  river — both  of 
them  hurt— and  as  they  swum  down  the  current  the 
men  run  along  the  bank  shooting  at  them  and  singing 
out,  1 ' Kill  them,  kill  them!"  It  made  me  so  sick  I 
most  fell  out  of  the  tree.  I  ain't  a-going  to  tell  all 
that  happened— it  would  make  me  sick  again  if  I 
was  to  do  that.  I  wished  I  hadn't  ever  come  ashore 
that  night  to  see  such  things.  I  ain't  ever  going  to 
get  shut  of  them — lots  of  times  I  dream  about  them. 

I  stayed  in  the  tree  till  it  begun  to  get  dark,  afraid 
to  come  down.  Sometimes  I  heard  guns  away  off 
in  the  woods;  and  twice  I  seen  little  gangs  of  men 
gallop  past  the  log  store  with  guns;  so  I  reckoned 
the  trouble  was  still  a-going  on.  I  was  mighty  down- 
hearted; so  I  made  up  my  mind  I  wouldn't  ever  go 
anear  that  house  again,  because  I  reckoned  I  was  to 
blame,  somehow.  I  judged  that  that  piece  of  paper 
meant  that  Miss  Sophia  was  to  meet  Harney  some- 
wheres  at  half  past  two  and  run  off;  and  I  judged 
I  ought  to  told  her  father  about  that  paper  and  the 
curious  way  she  acted,  and  then  maybe  he  would  'a' 
locked  her  up,  and  this  awful  mess  wouldn't  ever 
happened. 

When  I  got  down  out  of  the  tree  I  crept  along 
down  the  river-bank  a  piece,  and  found  the  two 
bodies  laying  in  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  tugged 
at  them  till  I  got  them  ashore;  then  I  covered  up 
their  faces,  and  got  away  as  quick  as  I  could.  I  cried 
a  little  when  I  was  covering  up  Buck's  face,  for  he 
was  mighty  good  to  me. 

It  was  just  dark  now.    I  never  went  near  the 

160 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


house,  but  struck  through  the  woods  and  made  for 
the  swamp.  Jim  warn't  on  his  island,  so  I  tramped 
off  in  a  hurry  for  the  crick,  and  crowded  through  the 
willows,  red-hot  to  jump  aboard  and  get  out  of  that 
awful  country.  The  raft  was  gone!  My  souls,  but 
I  was  scared!  I  couldn't  get  my  breath  for  most  a 
minute.  Then  I  raised  a  yell.  A  voice  not  twenty- 
five  foot  from  me  says: 

"Good  Ian'!  is  dat  you,  honey?  Doan'  make  no 
noise." 

It  was  Jim's  voice— nothing  ever  sounded  so  good 
before.  I  run  along  the  bank  a  piece  and  got  aboard, 
and  Jim  he  grabbed  me  and  hugged  me,  he  was  so 
glad  to  see  me.    He  says: 

"Laws  bless  you,  chile,  I  'uz  right  down  sho* 
you's  dead  ag'in.  Jack's  been  heah ;  he  say  he  reck'n 
you's  ben  shot,  kase  you  didn'  come  home  no  mo'; 
so  I's  jes'  dis  minute  a-startin'  de  raf '  down  towards 
de  mouf  er  de  crick,  so's  to  be  all  ready  for  to  shove 
out  en  leave  soon  as  Jack  comes  ag'in  en  tells  me 
for  certain  you  is  dead,  Lawsy,  I's  mighty  glad 
to  git  you  back  ag'in,  honey," 

I  says: 

"All  right — that's  mighty  good;  they  won't  find 
me,  and  they'll  think  I've  been  killed,  and  floated 
down  the  river — there's  something  up  there  that  '11 
help  them  think  so — so  don't  you  lose  no  time,  Jim, 
but  just  shove  off  for  the  big  water  as  fast  as  ever 
you  can." 

I  never  felt  easy  till  the  raft  was  two  mile  below 
there  and  out  in  the  middle  of  the  Mississippi.  Then 
we  hung  up  our  signal  lantern,  and  judged  that  we 

161 


MARK  TWAIN 


was  free  and  safe  once  more.  I  hadn't  had  a  bite 
to  eat  since  yesterday,  so  Jim  he  got  out  some  corn- 
dodgers and  buttermilk,  and  pork  and  cabbage  and 
greens — there  ain't  nothing  in  the  world  so  good 
when  it's  cooked  right — and  whilst  I  eat  my  supper 
we  talked  and  had  a  good  time.  I  was  powerful  glad 
to  get  away  from  the  feuds,  and  so  was  Jim  to  get 
away  from  the  swamp.  We  said  there  warn't  no 
homelike  a  raft,  after  all.  Other  places  do  seem  so 
cramped  up  and  smothery,  but  a  raft  don't.  You 
feel  mighty  free  and  easy  and  comfortable  on  a  raft. 


162 


CHAPTER  XIX 


TWO  or  three  days  and  nights  went  by;  I  reckon 
I  might  say  they  swum  by,  they  slid  along  so 
quiet  and  smooth  and  lovely.  Here  is  the  way  we 
put  in  the  time.  It  was  a  monstrous  big  river  down 
there — sometimes  a  mile  and  a  half  wide;  we  run 
nights,  and  laid  up  and  hid  daytimes;  soon  as  night 
was  most  gone  we  stopped  navigating  and  tied  up — 
nearly  always  in  the  dead  water  under  a  towhead; 
and  then  cut  young  cottonwoods  and  willows,  and 
hid  the  raft  with  them.  Then  we  set  out  the  lines. 
Next  we  slid  into  the  river  and  had  a  swim,  so  as  to 
freshen  up  and  cool  off;  then  we  set  down  on  the 
sandy  bottom  where  the  water  was  about  knee-deep, 
and  watched  the  daylight  come.  Not  a  sound  any- 
wheres— perfectly  still — just  like  the  whole  world 
was  asleep,  only  sometimes  the  bullfrogs  a-cluttering, 
maybe.  The  first  thing  to  see,  looking  away  over 
the  water,  was  a  kind  of  dull  line — that  was  the 
woods  on  t'other  side;  you  couldn't  make  nothing 
else  out;  then  a  pale  place  in  the  sky;  then  more  pale- 
ness spreading  around;  then  the  river  softened  up 
away  off,  and  warn't  black  any  more,  but  gray;  you 
could  see  little  dark  spots  drifting  along  ever  so  far 
away  —  trading  -  scows,  and  such  things;  and  long 
black  streaks— rafts;  sometimes  you  could  hear  a 

i4* 


MARK  TWAIN 


sweep  screaking;  or  jumbled -up  voices,  it  was  so 
still,  and  sounds  come  so  far;  and  by  and  by  you 
could  see  a  streak  on  the  water  which  you  know  by 
the  look  of  the  streak  that  there's  a  snag  there  in 
a  swift  current  which  breaks  on  it  and  makes  that 
streak  look  that  way;  and  you  see  the  mist  curl  up 
off  of  the  water,  and  the  east  reddens  up,  and  the 
river,  and  you  make  out  a  log  cabin  in  the  edge  of 
the  woods,  away  on  the  bank  on  t'other  side  of  the 
river,  being  a  wood-yard,  likely,  and  piled  by  them 
cheats  so  you  can  throw  a  dog  through  it  anywheres ; 
then  the  nice  breeze  springs  up,  and  comes  fanning 
you  from  over  there,  so  cool  and  fresh  and  sweet  to 
smell  on  account  of  the  woods  and  the  flowers;  but 
sometimes  not  that  way,  because  they've  left  dead 
fish  laying  around,  gars  and  such,  and  they  do  get 
pretty  rank;  and  next  you've  got  the  full  day,  and 
everything  smiling  in  the  sun,  and  the  song-birds 
just  going  it! 

A  little  smoke  couldn't  be  noticed  now,  so  we  would 
take  some  fish  off  of  the  lines  and  cook  up  a  hot  break- 
fast. And  afterwards  we  would  watch  the  lonesome- 
ness  of  the  river,  and  kind  of  lazy  along,  and  by  and 
by  lazy  off  to  sleep.  Wake  up  by  and  by,  and  look  to 
see  what  done  it,  and  maybe  see  a  steamboat  cough- 
ing along  up-stream,  so  far  off  towards  the  other  side 
you  couldn't  tell  nothing  about  her  only  whether  she 
was  a  stern- wheel  or  side- wheel;  then  for  about  an 
hour  there  wouldn't  be  nothing  to  hear  nor  nothing 
to  see — just  solid  lonesomeness.  Next  you'd  see  a 
raft  sliding  by,  away  off  yonder,  and  maybe  a  galoot 
on  it  chopping,  because  they're  most  always  doing 

164 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


it  on  a  raft ;  you'd  see  the  ax  flash  and  come  down— 
you  don't  hear  nothing;  you  see  that  ax  go  up  again, 
and  by  the  time  it's  above  the  man's  head  then  you 
hear  the  k' chunk! — it  had  took  all  that  time  to  come 
over  the  water.  So  we  would  put  in  the  day,  lazying 
around,  listening  to  the  stillness.  Once  there  was  a 
thick  fog,  and  the  rafts  and  things  that  went  by  was 
beating  tin  pans  so  the  steamboats  wouldn't  run 
over  them,  A  scow  or  a  raft  went  by  so  close  we 
could  hear  them  talking  and  cussing  and  laughing — ■ 
heard  them  plain;  but  we  couldn't  see  no  sign  of 
them;  it  made  you  feel  crawly;  it  was  like  spirits 
carry  ing  on  that  way  in  the  air.  Jim  said  he  believed 
It  was  spirits;  but  I  says: 

"No;  spirits  wouldn't  say,  *Dern  the  dem  fog.'" 
Soon  as  it  was  night  out  we  shoved;  when  we  got 
her  out  to  about  the  middle  we  let  her  alone,  and  let 
her  float  wherever  the  current  wanted  her  to;  then 
we  lit  the  pipes,  and  dangled  our  legs  in  the  water, 
and  talked  about  all  kinds  of  things— we  was  always 
naked,  day  and  night,  whenever  the  mosquitoes 
would  let  us— the  new  clothes  Buck's  folks  made  for 
me  was  too  good  to  be  comfortable,  and  besides  I 
didn't  go  much  on  clothes,  nohow. 

Sometimes  we'd  have  that  whole  river  all  to  our- 
selves for  the  longest  time.  Yonder  was  the  banks 
and  the  islands,  across  the  water;  and  maybe  a 
spark — which  was  a  candle  in  a  cabin  window;  and 
sometimes  on  the  water  you  could  see  a  spark  or 
two—on  a  raft  or  a  scow,  you  know;  and  maybe  you 
could  hear  a  fiddle  or  a  song  coming  over  from  one  of 
them  crafts.   It's  lovely  to  live  on  a  raft.   We  had 

165 


MARK  TWAIN 


the  sky  up  there,  all  speckled  with  stars,  and  we  used 
to  lay  on  our  backs  and  look  up  at  them,  and  discuss 
about  whether  they  was  made  or  only  just  happened. 
Jim  he  allowed  they  was  made,  but  I  allowed  they 
happened;  I  judged  it  would  have  took  too  long  to 
make  so  many.  Jim  said  the  moon  could  'a'  laid  them ; 
well,  that  looked  kind  of  reasonable,  so  I  didn't  say 
nothing  against  it,  because  I've  seen  a  frog  lay  most 
as  many,  so  of  course  it  could  be  done.  We  used  to 
watch  the  stars  that  fell,  too,  and  see  them  streak 
down.  Jim  allowed  they'd  got  spoiled  and  was  hove 
out  of  the  nest. 

Once  or  twice  of  a  night  we  would  see  a  steamboat 
slipping  along  in  the  dark,  and  now  and  then  she 
would  belch  a  whole  world  of  sparks  up  out  of  her 
chimbleys,  and  they  would  rain  down  in  the  river 
and  look  awful  pretty;  then  she  would  turn  a  corner 
and  her  lights  would  wink  out  and  her  powwow  shut 
off  and  leave  the  river  still  again;  and  by  and  by  her 
waves  would  get  to  us,  a  long  time  after  she  was  gone, 
and  joggle  the  raft  a  bit,  and  after  that  you  wouldn't 
hear  nothing  for  you  couldn't  tell  how  long,  except 
maybe  frogs  or  something. 

After  midnight  the  people  on  shore  went  to  bed, 
and  then  for  two  or  three  hours  the  shores  was  black 
— no  more  sparks  in  the  cabin  windows.  These 
sparks  was  our  clock — the  first  one  that  showed 
again  meant  morning  was  coming,  so  we  hunted  a 
place  to  hide  and  tie  up  right  away. 

One  morning  about  daybreak  I  found  a  canoe  and 
crossed  over  a  chute  to  the  main  shore — it  was  only 
two  hundred  yards — and  paddled  about  a  mile  up  a 

t66 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Click  amongst  the  cypress  woods,  to  see  if  I  couldn't 
get  some  berries.  Just  as  I  was  passing  a  place  where 
a  kind  of  a  cowpath  crossed  the  crick,  here  comes  a 
couple  of  men  tearing  up  the  path  as  tight  as  they 
could  foot  it.  I  thought  I  was  a  goner,  for  whenever 
anybody  was  after  anybody  I  judged  it  was  me — or 
maybe  Jimc  I  was  about  to  dig  out  from  there  in  a 
hurry,  but  they  was  pretty  close  to  me  then,  and  sung 
out  and  begged  me  to  save  their  lives — said  they 
hadn't  been  doing  nothing,  and  was  being  chased  for 
it — said  there  was  men  and  dogs  a-coming.  They 
wanted  to  jump  right  in,  but  I  says: 

* 4  Don't  you  do  it.  I  don't  hear  the  dogs  and  horses 
yet;  you've  got  time  to  crowd  through  the  brush  and 
get  up  the  crick  a  little  ways;  then  you  take  to  the 
water  and  wade  down  to  me  and  get  in — that  '11  throw 
the  dogs  off  the  scent." 

They  done  it,  and  soon  as  they  was  aboard  I  lit 
out  for  our  towhead,  and  in  about  five  or  ten  min- 
utes we  heard  the  dogs  and  the  men  away  off, 
shouting.  We  heard  them  come  along  towards  the 
crick,  but  couldn't  see  them;  they  seemed  to  stop 
and  fool  around  awhile ;  then,  as  we  got  further  and 
further  away  all  the  time,  we  couldn't  hardly  hear 
them  at  all;  by  the  time  we  had  left  a  mile  of  woods 
behind  us  and  struck  the  river,  everything  was  quiet, 
and  we  paddled  over  to  the  towhead  and  hid  in  the 
cottonwoods  and  was  safe. 

One  of  these  fellows  was  about  seventy  or  up- 
wards, and  had  a  bald  head  and  very  gray  whiskers. 
He  had  an  old  battered-up  slouch  hat  on,  and  a 
greasy  blue  woolen  shirt,  and  ragged  old  blue  jeans 

i6n 


MARK  TWAIN 


britches  stuffed  into  his  boot-tops,  and  home-knit 
galluses — no,  he  only  had  one.  He  had  an  old  long- 
tailed  blue  jeans  coat  with  slick  brass  buttons  flung 
over  his  arm,  and  both  of  them  had  big,  fat,  ratty- 
looking  carpet-bags. 

The  other  fellow  was  about  thirty,  and  dressed 
about  as  ornery.  After  breakfast  we  ail  laid  off  and 
talked,  and  the  first  thing  that  come  out  was  that 
these  chaps  didn't  know  one  another. 

1 ' What  got  you  into  trouble?"  says  the  baldhead 
to  t'other  chap. 

"Well,  I'd  been  selling  an  article  to  take  the 
tartar  off  the  teeth — and  it  does  take  it  off,  too,  and 
generly  the  enamel  along  with  it — but  I  stayed  about 
one  night  longer  than  I  ought  to,  a.nd  was  just  in  the 
act  of  sliding  out  when  I  ran  across  you  on  the  trail 
this  side  of  town,  and  you  told  me  they  were  coming, 
and  begged  me  to  help  you  to  get  off.  So  I  told  you 
I  was  expecting  trouble  myself,  and  would  scatter 
out  with  you.  That's  the  whole  yarn — what's 
yourn?" 

"Well,  I'd  ben  a-runnin'  a  little  temperance 
revival  thar  'bout  a  week,  and  was  the  pet  of  the 
women  folks,  big  and  little,  for  I  was  makin'  it 
mighty  warm  for  the  rummies,  I  tell  you,  and  takin' 
as  much  as  five  or  six  dollars  a  night— ten  cents 
a  head,  children  and  niggers  free — and  business 
a-growin'  all  the  time,  when  somehow  or  another  a 
little  report  got  around  last  night  that  I  had  a  way 
of  puttin'  in  my  time  with  a  private  jug  on  the  sly. 
A  nigger  rousted  me  out  this  mornin',  and  told  me 
the  people  was  getherin'  on  the  quiet  with  their  dogs 

16& 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

and  horses,  and  they'd  be  along  pretty  soon  and  give 
me  'bout  half  an  hour's  start,  and  then  run  me  down 
if  they  could;  and  if  they  got  me  they'd  tar  and 
feather  me  and  ride  me  on  a  rail,  sure.  I  didn't 
wait  for  no  breakfast — I  warn't  hungry." 

"Old  man,"  said  the  young  one,  "I  reckon  we 
might  double-team  it  together;  what  do  you  think?" 

' '  I  ain't  undisposed.    What's  your  line — mainly  ?" 

"Jour  printer  by  trade;  do  a  little  in  patent 
medicines;  theater-actor — tragedy,  you  know;  take 
a  turn  to  mesmerism  and  phrenology  when  there's 
a  chance;  teach  singing-geography  school  for  a 
change;  sling  a  lecture  sometimes — oh,  I  do  lots  of 
things — most  anything  that  comes  handy,  so  it  ain't 
work.    What's  your  lay?" 

"I've  done  considerble  in  the  doctoring  way  in 
my  time.  Lay  in'  on  o'  hands  is  my  best  holt— for 
cancer  and  paralysis,  and  sich  things;  and  I  k'n  tell 
a  fortune  pretty  good  when  I've  got  somebody  along 
to  find  out  the  facts  for  me.  Preachin's  my  line, 
too,  and  workin'  camp-meetin's,  and  missionaryin' 
around." 

Nobody  never  said  anything  for  a  while;  then  the 
young  man  hove  a  sigh  and  says: 
"Alas!" 

"What  're  you  alassin'  about?"  says  the  baldhead, 
"To  think  I  should  have  lived  to  be  leading  such 

a  life,  and  be  degraded  down  into  such  company." 

And  he  begun  to  wipe  the  corner  of  his  eye  with 

a  rag. 

"Dern  your  skin,  ain't  the  company  good  enough 
for  you?"  says  the  baldhead,  pretty  pert  and  uppish, 

169 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Yes,  it  is  good  enough  for  me;  it's  as  good  as  I 
deserve;  for  who  fetched  me  so  low  when  I  was  so 
high?  I  did  myself.  I  don't  blame  you,  gentlemen 
— far  from  it;  I  don't  blame  anybody.  I  deserve  it 
all.  Let  the  cold  world  do  its  worst;  one  thing  I 
know — there's  a  grave  somewhere  for  me.  The 
world  may  go  on  just  as  it's  always  done,  and  take 
everything  from  me — loved  ones,  property,  every- 
thing; but  it  can't  take  that.  Some  day  I'll  lie  down 
in  it  and  forget  it  all,  and  my  poor  broken  heart 
will  be  at  rest."    He  went  on  a- wiping. 

"Drot  your  pore  broken  heart,"  says  the  bald- 
head;  "what  are  you  heaving  your  pore  broken  heart 
at  us  f'r?    We  hain't  done  nothing." 

1  'No,  I  know  you  haven't.  I  ain't  blaming  you, 
gentlemen.  I  brought  myself  down — yes,  I  did  it 
myself.  It's  right  I  should  suffer— perfectly  right— 
I  don't  make  any  moan." 

"Brought  you  down  from  whar?  Whar  was  you, 
brought  down  from?" 

"Ah,  you  would  not  believe  me;  the  world  never 
believes — let  it  pass — 'tis  no  matter.  The  secret  of 
my  birth— "  / 

' '  The  secret  of  your  birth !  Do  you  mean  to  say — " 

"Gentlemen,"  says  the  young  man,  very  solemn, 
"I  will  reveal  it  to  you,  for  I  feel  I  may  have  con- 
fidence in  you.    By  rights  I  am  a  duke!" 

Jim's  eyes  bugged  out  when  he  heard  that;  and  I 
reckon  mine  did,  too.  Then  the  baldhead  says: 
"No!  you  can't  mean  it?" 

"Yes.  My  great-grandfather,  eldest  son  of  the 
Duke  of  Bridgewater,  fled  to  this  country  about  the 

170 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


end  of  the  last  century,  to  breathe  the  pure  air  of 
freedom;  married  here,  and  died,  leaving  a  son,  his 
own  father  dying  about  the  same  time.  The  second 
son  of  the  late  duke  seized  the  titles  and  estates — 
the  infant  real  duke  was  ignored.  I  am  the  lineal 
descendant  of  that  infant — I  am  the  rightful  Duke  of 
Bridge  water ;  and  here  am  I,  forlorn,  torn  from  my 
high  estate,  hunted  of  men,  despised  by  the  cold 
world,  ragged,  worn,  heartbroken,  and  degraded  to 
the  companionship  of  felons  on  a  raft!" 

Jim  pitied  him  ever  so  much,  and  so  did  I.  We 
tried  to  comfort  him,  but  he  said  it  warn't  much  use, 
he  couldn't  be  much  comforted;  said  if  we  was  a 
mind  to  acknowledge  him,  that  would  do  him  more 
good  than  most  anything  else;  so  we  said  we  would, 
if  he  would  tell  us  how.  He  said  we  ought  to  bow 
when  we  spoke  to  him,  and  say  "Your  Grace,"  or 
"My  Lord,"  or  "Your  Lordship" — and  he  wouldn't 
mind  it  if  we  called  him  plain  "Bridgewater,"  which, 
he  said,  was  a  title  anyway,  and  not  a  name ;  and  one 
of  us  ought  to  wait  on  him  at  dinner,  and  do  any 
little  thing  for  him  he  wanted  done. 

Well,  that  was  all  eas}r,  so  we  done  it.  All  through 
dinner  Jim  stood  around  and  waited  on  him,  and 
says,  "Will  yo'  Grace  have  some  o'  dis  or  some  o' 
dat?"  and  so  on,  and  a  body  could  see  it  was  mighty 
pleasing  to  him. 

But  the  old  man  got  pretty  silent  by  and  by — 
didn't  have  much  to  say,  and  didn't  look  pretty  com- 
fortable over  all  that  petting  that  was  going  on 
around  that  duke.  He  seemed  to  have  something 
on  his  mind.    So,  along  in  the  afternoon,  he  says: 

171 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Looky  here,  Bilgewater,"  he  says,  4 'I'm  nation 
sorry  for  you,  but  you  ain't  the  only  person  that's 
had  troubles  like  that." 

"No?" 

"No,  you  ain't.   You  ain't  the  only  person  that's 
ben  snaked  down  wrongfully  out'n  a  high  place." 
"Alas!" 

"No,  you  ain't  the  only  person  that's  had  a 
secret  of  his  birth."  And,  by  jings,  he  begins  to 
cry. 

1 '  Hold !    What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Bilgewater,  kin  I  trust  you?"  says  the  old  man, 
still  sort  of  sobbing. 

"To  the  bitter  death!"  He  took  the  old  man  by 
the  hand  and  squeezed  it,  and  says,  "That  secret 
of  your  being:  speak!" 

"Bilgewater,  I  am  the  late  Dauphin!" 

You  bet  you,  Jim  and  me  stared  this  time.  Then 
the  duke  says: 

"You  are  what?" 

"Yes,  my  friend,  it  is  too  true — your  eyes  is 
lookin'  at  this  very  moment  on  the  pore  disappeared 
Dauphin,  Looy  the  Seventeen,  son  of  Looy  the 
Sixteen  and  Marry  Antonette." 

"You!  At  your  age!  No!  You  mean  you're 
the  late  Charlemagne;  you  must  be  six  or  seven 
hundred  years  old,  at  the  very  least." 

"Trouble  has  done  it,  Bilgewater,  trouble  has  done 
it ;  trouble  has  brung  these  gray  hairs  and  this  prema- 
ture balditude.  Yes,  gentlemen,  you  see  before  you, 
in  blue  jeans  and  misery,  the  wanderin',  exiled, 
trampled-on,  and  sufferin'  rightful  King  of  France." 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINK 


Well,  lie  cried  and  took  on  so  that  me  and  Jim 
didn't  know  hardly  what  to  do,  we  was  so  sorry— ^ 
and  so  glad  and  proud  we'd  got  him  with  us,  too. 
So  we  set  in,  like  we  done  before  with  the  duke,  and 
tried  to  comfort  him.  But  he  said  it  warn't  no  use, 
nothing  but  to  be  dead  and  done  with  it  all  could 
do  him  any  good;  though  he  said  it  often  made  him 
feel  easier  and  better  for  a  while  if  people  treated  him 
according  to  his  rights,  and  got  down  on  one  knee 
to  speak  to  him,  and  always  called  him  ' i  Your 
Majesty,"  and  waited  on  him  first  at  meals,  and 
didn't  set  down  in  his  presence  till  he  asked  them* 
So  Jim  and  me  set  to  majestying  him,  and  doing  this 
and  that  and  t'other  for  him,  and  standing  up  till 
he  told  us  we  might  set  down.  This  done  him  heaps 
of  good,  and  so  he  got  cheerful  and  comfortable., 
But  the  duke  kind  of  soured  on  him,  and  didn't  look 
a  bit  satisfied  with  the  way  things  was  going;  still, 
the  king  acted  real  friendly  towards  him,  and  said 
the  duke's  great-grandfather  and  all  the  other  Dukes 
of  Bilge  water  was  a  good  deal  thought  of  by  his 
father,  and  was  allowed  to  come  to  the  palace  con- 
siderable; but  the  duke  stayed  hufTy  a  good  while, 
till  by  and  by  the  king  says : 

"Like  as  not  we  got  to  be  together  a  blamed  long 
time  on  this  h~yer  raft,  Bilgewater,  and  so  what's 
the  use  o'  your  bein'  sour?  It  '11  only  make  things 
oncomfortable.  It  ain't  my  fault  I  warn't  born  a 
duke,  it  ain't  your  fault  you  warn't  born  a  king — so 
what's  the  use  to  worry?  Make  the  best  o'  things 
the  way  you  find  'em,  says  I — that's  my  motto. 
This  ain't  no  bad  thing  that  we've  struck  here— 

173 


MARK  TWAIN 


plenty  grub  and  an  easy  life — come,  give  us  your 
hand,  duke,  and  le's  all  be  friends. " 

The  duke  done  it,  and  Jim  and  me  was  pretty  glad 
to  see  it.  It  took  away  all  the  uncomfortableness 
and  we  felt  mighty  good  over  it,  because  it  would  'a* 
been  a  miserable  business  to  have  any  unfriendliness 
on  the  raft;  for  what  you  want,  above  all  things,  on 
a  raft,  is  for  everybody  to  be  satisfied,  and  feel  right 
and  kind  towards  the  others. 

It  didn't  take  me  long  to  make  up  my  mind  that 
these  liars  warn't  no  kings  nor  dukes  at  all,  but  just 
low-down  humbugs  and  frauds.  But  I  never  said 
nothing,  never  let  on;  kept  it  to  myself;  it's  the  best 
way;  then  you  don't  have  no  quarrels,  and  don't  get 
into  no  trouble.  If  they  wanted  us  to  call  them 
kings  and  dukes,  I  hadn't  no  objections,  'long  as  it 
would  keep  peace  in  the  family;  and  it  warn't  no 
use  to  tell  Jim,  so  I  didn't  tell  him.  If  I  never 
learnt  nothing  else  out  of  pap,  I  learnt  that  the  best 
way  to  get  along  with  his  kind  of  people  is  to  let^ 
them  have  their  own  way. 


174 


CHAPTER  XX 


THEY  asked  us  considerable  many  questions^ 
wanted  to  know  what  we  covered  up  the  raft 
that  way  for,  and  laid  by  in  the  daytime  instead  of 
running — was  Jim  a  runaway  nigger?    Says  I: 

"Goodness  sakes!  would  a  runaway  nigger  run 
south?'* 

No,  they  allowed  he  wouldn't,  I  had  to  account 
for  things  some  way,  so  I  says : 

"My  folks  was  living  in  Pike  County,  in  Missouri, 
where  I  was  born,  and  they  all  died  off  but  me  and  pa 
and  my  brother  Ike,  Pa,  he 'lowed  he'd  break  up 
and  go  down  and  live  with  Uncle  Ben,  who's  got  a 
little  one-horse  place  on  the  river  forty-four  mile 
below  Orleans,  Pa  was  pretty  poor,  and  had  some 
debts;  so  when  he'd  squared  up  there  warn't  nothing 
left  but  sixteen  dollars  and  our  nigger,  Jim.  That 
warn't  enough  to  take  us  fourteen  hundred  mile,  deck 
passage  nor  no  other  way.  Well,  when  the  river  rose 
pa  had  a  streak  of  luck  one  day;  he  ketched  this  piece 
of  a  raft ;  so  we  reckoned  we'd  go  down  to  Orleans  on 
it.  Pa's  luck  didn't  hold  out ;  a  steamboat  run  over 
the  forrard  corner  of  the  raft  one  night,  and  we  all 
went  overboard  and  dove  under  the  wheel;  Jim  and 
me  come  up  all  right,  but  pa  was  drunk,  and  Ike  was 
only  four  years  old,  so  they  never  come  up  no  more. 


MARK  TWAIN 


Well,  for  the  next  day  or  two  we  had  considerable 
trouble,  because  people  was  always  coming  out  in 
skiffs  and  trying  to  take  Jim  away  from  me,  saying 
they  believed  he  was  a  runaway  nigger.  We  don't 
run  daytimes  no  more  now;  nights  they  don't  bother 
us." 

The  duke  says: 

"Leave  me  alone  to  cipher  out  a  way  so  we  can 
run  in  the  daytime  if  we  want  to.  I'll  think  the  thing 
over — I'll  invent  a  plan  that  '11  fix  it.  We'll  let  it 
alone  for  to-day,  because  of  course  we  don't  want  to 
go  by  that  town  yonder  in  daylight — it  mightn't  be 
healthy." 

Towards  night  it  begun  to  darken  up  and  look  like 
rain;  the  heat-lightning  was  squirting  around  low 
down  in  the  sky,  and  the  leaves  was  beginning  to 
shiver— it  was  going  to  be  pretty  ugly,  it  was  easy 
to  see  that.  So  the  duke  and  the  king  went  to  over- 
hauling our  wigwam,  to  see  what  the  beds  was  like. 
My  bed  was  a  straw  tick — better  than  Jim's,  which 
was  a  corn-shuck  tick;  there's  always  cobs  around 
about  in  a  shuck  tick,  and  they  poke  into  you  and 
hurt;  and  when  you  roll  over  the  dry  shucks  sound 
like  you  was  rolling  over  in  a  pile  of  dead  leaves;  it 
makes  such  a  rustling  that  you  wake  up.  Well,  the 
duke  allowed  he  would  take  my  bed;  but  the  king 
allowed  he  wouldn't.   He  says: 

"I  should  'a'  reckoned  the  difference  in  rank  would 
a  sejested  to  you  that  a  corn-shuck  bed  warn't  just 
fitten  for  me  to  sleep  on.  Your  Grace  11  take  the 
shuck  bed  yourself." 

Jim  and  me  was  in  a  sweat  again  for  a  minute, 
17& 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


being  afraid  there  was  going  to  be  some  more  trouble 
amongst  them;  so  we  was  pretty  glad  when  the  duke 
says: 

"Tis  my  fate  to  be  always  ground  into  the  mire 
under  the  iron  heel  of  oppression.  Misfortune  has 
broken  my  once  haughty  spirit;  I  yield,  I  submit; 
'tis  my  fate.  I  am  alone  in  the  world-— let  me  suffer; 
I  can  bear  it." 

We  got  away  as  soon  as  it  was  good  and  dark.  The 
king  told  us  to  stand  well  out  towards  the  middle  of 
the  river,  and  not  show  a  light  till  we  got  a  long  ways 
below  the  town.  We  come  in  sight  of  the  little  bunch 
of  lights  by  and  by — that  was  the  town,  you  know— 
and  slid  by,  about  a  half  a  mile  out,  all  right.  When 
we  was  three-quarters  of  a  mile  below  we  hoisted  up 
our  signal  lantern;  and  about  ten  o'clock  it  come  on 
to  rain  and  blow  and  thunder  and  lighten  like  every- 
thing; so  the  king  told  us  to  both  stay  on  watch  till 
the  weather  got  better;  then  him  and  the  duke 
crawled  into  the  wigwam  and  turned  in  for  the  night, 
It  was  my  watch  below  till  twelve,  but  I  wouldn't 
'a'  turned  in  anyway  if  I'd  had  a  bed,  because  a  body 
don't  see  such  a  storm  as  that  every  day  in  the  week, 
not  by  a  long  sight.  My  souls,  how  the  wind  did 
scream  along!  And  every  second  or  two  there'd 
come  a  glare  that  lit  up  the  white-caps  for  a  half  a 
mile  around,  and  you'd  see  the  islands  looking  dusty 
through  the  rain,  and  the  trees  thrashing  around  in 
the  wind;  then  comes  a  h-whack! — bum!  bum!  bum- 
ble-umble-um-bum-bum-bum--bum— and  the  thunder 
would  go  rumbling  and  grumbling  away,  and  quit—, 
and  then  rip  comes  another  flash  and  another  sock* 

*#| 


MARK  TWAIN 


dolager.  The  waves  most  washed  me  off  the  raft 
sometimes,  but  I  hadn't  any  clothes  on,  and  didn't 
mind.  We  didn't  have  no  trouble  about  snags;  the 
lightning  was  glaring  and  flittering  around  so  con- 
stant that  we  could  see  them  plenty  soon  enough  to 
throw  her  head  this  way  or  that  and  miss  them. 

I  had  the  middle  watch,  you  know,  but  I  was  pretty 
sleepy  by  that  time,  so  Jim  he  said  he  would  stand 
the  first  half  of  it  for  me;  he  was  always  mighty  good 
that  way,  Jim  was.  I  crawled  into  the  wigwam,  but 
the  king  and  the  duke  had  their  legs  sprawled  around 
so  there  warn't  no  show  for  me;  so  I  laid  outside — I 
didn't  mind  the  rain,  because  it  was  warm,  and  the 
waves  warn't  running  so  high  now.  About  two  they 
come  up  again,  though,  and  Jim  was  going  to  call  me; 
but  he  changed  his  mind,  because  he  reckoned  they 
warn't  high  enough  yet  to  do  any  harm;  but  he  was 
mistaken  about  that,  for  pretty  soon  all  of  a  sudden 
along  comes  a  regular  ripper  and  washed  me  over- 
board. It  most  killed  Jim  a-laughing.  He  was  the 
easiest  nigger  to  laugh  that  ever  was,  anyway. 

I  took  the  watch,  and  Jim  he  laid  down  and  snored 
away;  and  by  and  by  the  storm  let  up  for  good  and 
all;  and  the  first  cabin-light  that  showed  I  rousted 
him  out,  and  we  slid  the  raft  into  hiding-quarters  for 
the  day. 

The  king  got  out  an  old  ratty  deck  of  cards  after 
breakfast,  and  him  and  the  duke  played  seven-up 
awhile,  five  cents  a  game.  Then  they  got  tired  of  it, 
and  allowed  they  would  "lay  out  a  campaign,'  as 
they  called  it.  The  duke  went  down  into  his  carpet- 
bag, and  fetched  up  a  lot  of  little  printed  bills  and 

178 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

read  them  out  loud.  One  bill  said,  "The  celebrated 
Dr.  Armand  de  Montalban,  of  Paris,"  would  "lecture 
on  the  Science  of  Phrenology"  at  such  and  such  a 
place,  on  the  blank  day  of  blank,  at  ten  cents  admis- 
sion, and  "furnish  charts  of  character  at  twenty-five 
cents  apiece."  The  duke  said  that  was  him.  In  an- 
other bill  he  was  the  "world-renowned  Shakespearian 
tragedian,  Garrick  the  Younger,  of  Drury  Lane,  Lon- 
don." In  other  bills  he  had  a  lot  of  other  names 
and  done  other  wonderful  things,  like  finding  water 
and  gold  with  a  "divining-rod,"  "dissipating  witch 
spells,"  and  so  on.   By  and  by  he  says: 

* '  But  the  histrionic  muse  is  the  darling.  Have  you 
ever  trod  the  boards,  Royalty?" 

"No,"  says  the  king. 

"You  shall,  then,  before  you're  three  days  older, 
Fallen  Grandeur,"  says  the  duke.  "The  first  good 
town  we  come  to  well  hire  a  hall  and  do  the  sword- 
fight  in  'Richard  HI.'  and  the  balcony  scene  in  'Ro- 
meo and  Juliet.'   How  does  that  strike  you?" 

"I'm  in,  up  to  the  hub,  for  anything  that  will  pay, 
Bilgewater ;  but,  you  see,  I  don't  know  nothing  about 
play-actin',  and  hain't  ever  seen  much  of  it.  I  was 
too  small  when  pap  used  to  have  'em  at  the  palace. 
Do  you  reckon  you  can  learn  me?" 

"Easy!" 

"All  right.  I'm  jist  a-freezin'  for  something  fresh£ 
anyway.   Le's  commence  right  away." 

So  the  duke  he  told  him  all  about  who  Romeo  was 
and  who  Juliet  was,  and  said  he  was  used  to  being 
Romeo,  so  the  king  could  be  Juliet. 

"But  if  Juliet's  such  a  young  gal,  duke,  my  peeled 
179 


MARK  TWAIN 


head  and  my  white  whiskers  is  goin'  to  look  oncom- 
mon  odd  on  her,  maybe. " 

"No,  don't  you  worry;  these  country  jakes  won't 
ever  think  of  that.  Besides,  you  know,  you'll  be  in 
costume,  and  that  makes  all  the  difference  in  the 
world;  Juliet's  in  a  balcony,  enjoying  the  moonlight 
before  she  goes  to  bed,  and  she's  got  on  her  night- 
gown and  her  ruffled  nightcap.  Here  are  the  cos- 
tumes for  the  parts." 

He  got  out' two  or  three  curtain-calico  suits,  which 
he  said  was  meedyevil  armor  for  Richard  III.  and 
t'other  chap,  and  a  long  white  cotton  nightshirt  and  a 
ruffled  nightcap  to  match.  The  king  was  satisfied ;  so 
the  duke  got  out  his  book  and  read  the  parts  over  in 
the  most  splendid  spread-eagle  way,  prancing  around 
and  acting  at  the  same  time,  to  show  how  it  had  got 
to  be  done;  then  he  give  the  book  to  the  king  and 
told  him  to  get  his  part  by  heart. 

There  was  a  little  one-horse  town  about  three  mile 
down  the  bend,  and  after  dinner  the  duke  said  he  had 
ciphered  out  his  idea  about  how  to  run  in  daylight 
without  it  being  dangersome  for  Jim;  so  he  allowed 
he  would  go  down  to  the  town  and  fix  that  thing. 
The  king  allowed  he  would  go,  too,  and  see  if  he 
couldn't  strike  something.  We  was  out  of  coffee,  so 
Jim  said  I  better  go  along  with  them  in  the  canoe  and 
get  some. 

When  we  got  there  there  warn't  nobody  stirring; 
streets  empty,  and  perfectly  dead  and  still,  like  Sun- 
day. We  found  a  sick  nigger  sunning  himself  in  a 
back  yard,  and  he  said  everybody  that  warn't  too 
young  or  too  sick  or  too  old  was  gone  to  camp- 

1S0 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


meeting,  about  two  mile  back  in  the  woods.  The  king 
got  the  directions,  and  allowed  he'd  go  and  work  that 
camp-meeting  for  all  it  was  worth,  and  I  might  go,  too, 

The  duke  said  what  he  was  after  was  a  printing- 
office.  We  found  it;  a  little  bit  of  a  concern,  up  over 
a  carpenter-shop — carpenters  and  printers  all  gone  to 
the  meeting,  and  no  doors  locked.  It  was  a  dirty, 
littered-up  place,  and  had  ink-marks,  and  handbills 
with  pictures  of  horses  and  runaway  niggers  on  them, 
all  over  the  walls.  The  duke  shed  his  coat  and  said 
he  was  all  right  now.  So  me  and  the  king  lit  out  for 
the  camp-meeting. 

We  got  there  in  about  a  half  an  hour  fairly  drip- 
ping, for  it  was  a  most  awful  hot  day.  There  was  as 
much  as  a  thousand  people  there  from  twenty  mile 
around.  The  woods  was  full  of  teams  and  wagons, 
hitched  every wheres,  feeding  out  of  the  wagon- 
troughs  and  stomping  to  keep  off  the  flies.  There  was 
sheds  made  out  of  poles  and  roofed  over  with 
branches,  where  they  had  lemonade  and  gingerbread 
to  sell,  and  piles  of  watermelons  and  green  corn  and 
such-like  truck. 

The  preaching  was  going  on  under  the  same  kinds 
of  sheds,  only  they  was  bigger  and  held  crowds  of 
people.  The  benches  was  made  out  of  outside  slabs 
of  logs,  with  holes  bored  in  the  round  side  to  drive 
sticks  into  for  legs.  They  didn't  have  no  backs. 
The  preachers  had  high  platforms  to  stand  on  at  one 
end  of  the  sheds.  The  women  had  on  sun-bonnets; 
and  some  had  linsey-woolsey  frocks,  some  gingham 
ones,  and  a  few  of  the  young  ones  had  on  calico. 
Borne  of  the  young  men  was  barefooted,  and  some  of 

m 


MARK  TWAIN 


the  children  didn't  have  on  any  clothes  but  just  a 
tow-linen  shirt.  Some  of  the  old  women  was  knitting, 
and  some  of  the  young  folks  was  courting  on  the  sly. 

The  first  shed  we  come  to  the  preacher  was  lining 
out  a  hymn.  He  lined  out  two  lines,  everybody  sung 
it,  and  it  was  kind  of  grand  to  hear  it,  there  was  so 
many  of  them  and  they  done  it  in  such  a  rousing  way; 
then  he  lined  out  two  more  for  them  to  sing — and  so 
on.  The  people  woke  up  more  and  more,  and  sung 
louder  and  louder;  and  towards  the  end  some  begun 
to  groan,  and  some  begun  to  shout.  Then  the 
preacher  begun  to  preach,  and  begun  in  earnest,  too; 
and  went  weaving  first  to  one  side  of  the  platform  and 
then  the  other,  and  then  a-leaning  down  over  the 
front  of  it,  with  his  arms  and  his  body  going  all  the 
time,  and  shouting  his  words  out  with  all  his  might; 
and  every  now  and  then  he  would  hold  up  his  Bible 
and  spread  it  open,  and  kind  of  pass  it  around  this 
way  and  that,  shouting,  "  It's  the  brazen  serpent  in 
the  wilderness !  Look  upon  it  and  live !' '  And  people 
would  shout  out,  * '  Glory! — A-SL-men!'9  And  so  he 
went  on,  and  the  people  groaning  and  crying  and 
saying  amen : 

"Oh,  come  to  the  mourners'  bench!  come,  black 
with  sin!  (amen!)  come,  sick  and  sore!  (amen!) 
come,  lame  and  halt  and  blind!  (amen!)  come,  pore 
and  needy,  sunk  in  shame!  (a-a-men!)  come,  all 
that's  worn  and  soiled  and  suffering! — come  with  a 
broken  spirit!  come  with  a  contrite  heart!  come  in 
your  rags  and  sin  and  dirt !  the  waters  that  cleanse  is 
free,  the  door  of  heaven  stands  open — oh,  enter  in 
and  be  at  rest!"  (a-a-men!  glory,  glory  hallelujah!) 

182 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


And  so  on.  You  couldn't  make  out  what  the 
preacher  said  any  more,  on  account  of  the  shouting 
and  crying.  Folks  got  up  everywheres  in  the  crowd, 
and  worked  their  way  just  by  main  strength  to  the 
mourners'  bench,  with  the  tears  running  down  their 
faces;  and  when  all  the  mourners  had  got  up  there  to 
the  front  benches  in  a  crowd,  they  sung  and  shouted 
and  flung  themselves  down  on  the  straw,  just  crazy 
and  wild. 

Well,  the  first  I  knowed  the  king  got  a-going,  and 
you  could  hear  him  over  everybody;  and  next  he 
went  a -charging  up  onto  the  platform,  and  the 
preacher  he  begged  him  to  speak  to  the  people,  and 
he  done  it.  He  told  them  he  was  a  pirate — been  a 
pirate  for  thirty  years  out  in  the  Indian  Ocean — and 
his  crew  was  thinned  out  considerable  last  spring  in  a 
fight,  and  he  was  home  now  to  take  out  some  fresh 
men,  and  thanks  to  goodness  he'd  been  robbed  last 
night  and  put  ashore  off  of  a  steamboat  without  a 
cent,  and  he  was  glad  of  it;  it  was  the  blessedest 
thing  that  ever  happened  to  him,  because  he  was  a 
changed  man  now,  and  happy  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life;  and,  poor  as  he  was,  he  was  going  to  start  right 
off  and  work  his  way  back  to  the  Indian  Ocean,  and 
put  in  the  rest  of  his  life  trying  to  turn  the  pirates 
into  the  true  path;  for  he  could  do  it  better  than 
anybody  else,  being  acquainted  with  all  pirate  crews 
in  that  ocean;  and  though  it  would  take  him  a  long 
time  to  get  there  without  money,  he  would  get  there 
anyway,  and  every  time  he  convinced  a  pirate  he 
would  say  to  him,  "Don't  you  thank  me,  don't  you 
give  me  no  credit ;  it  all  belongs  to  them  dear  people 


MARK  TWAIN 


in  Pokeville  camp-meeting,  natural  brothers  and 
benefactors  of  the  race,  and  that  dear  preacher  there, 
the  truest  friend  a  pirate  ever  had!" 

And  then  he  busted  into  tears,  and  so  did  every- 
body. Then  somebody  sings  out,  "Take  up  a  col- 
lection for  him,  take  up  a  collection !"  Well,  a  half 
a  dozen  made  a  jump  to  do  it,  but  somebody  sings 
out,  "Let  him  pass  the  hat  around!'*  Then  every- 
body said  it,  the  preacher  too. 

So  the  king  went  all  through  the  crowd  with  his 
hat,  swabbing  his  eyes,  and  blessing  the  people  and 
praising  them  and  thanking  them  for  being  so  good 
to  the  poor  pirates  away  off  there;  and  every  little 
while  the  prettiest  kind  of  girls,  with  the  tears 
running  down  their  cheeks,  would  up  and  ask  him 
would  he  let  them  kiss  him  for  to  remember  him  by; 
and  he  always  done  it ;  and  some  of  them  he  hugged 
and  kissed  as  many  as  five  or  six  times — and  he  was 
invited  to  stay  a  week;  and  everybody  wanted  him 
to  live  in  their  houses,  and  said  they'd  think  it  was 
an  honor;  but  he  said  as  this  was  the  last  day  of 
the  camp-meeting  he  couldn't  do  no  good,  and  be- 
sides he  was  in  a  sweat  to  get  to  the  Indian  Ocean 
right  off  and  go  to  work  on  the  pirates. 

When  we  got  back  to  the  raft  and  he  come  to 
count  up  he  found  he  had  collected  eighty-seven 
dollars  and  seventy-five  cents.  And  then  he  had 
fetched  away  a  three-gallon  jug  of  whisky,  too,  that 
he  found  under  a  wagon  when  he  was  starting  home 
through  the  woods.  The  king  said,  take  it  all 
around,  it  laid  over  any  day  he'd  ever  put  in  in  the 
missionarying  line.    He  said  it  warn't  no  use  talking, 

Z%4 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


heathens  don't  amount  to  shucks  alongside  of  pirates 
to  work  a  camp-meeting  with. 

The  duke  was  thinking  he'd  been  doing  pretty 
well  till  the  king  come  to  show  up,  but  after  that 
he  didn't  think  so  so  much.  He  had  set  up  and 
printed  off  two  little  jobs  for  farmers  in  that 
printing-office — horse  bills — and  took  the  money, 
four  dollars.  And  he  had  got  in  ten  dollars'  worth 
of  advertisements  for  the  paper,  which  he  said  he 
would  put  in  for  four  dollars  if  they  would  pay  in 
advance — so  they  done  it.  The  price  of  the  paper 
was  two  dollars  a  year,  but  he  took  in  three  sub- 
scriptions for  half  a  dollar  apiece  on  condition  of 
them  paying  him  in  advance;  they  were  going  to  pay 
in  cordwood  and  onions  as  usual,  but  he  said  he  had 
just  bought  the  concern  and  knocked  down  the 
price  as  low  as  he  could  afford  it,  and  was  going  to 
run  it  for  cash.  He  set  up  a  little  piece  of  poetry, 
which  he  made,  himself,  out  of  his  own  head — three 
verses — kind  of  sweet  and  saddish — the  name  of  it 
was,  "Yes,  crush,  cold  world,  this  breaking  heartl- 
and he  left  that  all  set  up  and  ready  to  print  in  the 
paper,  and  didn't  charge  nothing  for  it.  Well,  he 
took  in  nine  dollars  and  a  half,  and  said  he'd  done  a 
pretty  square  day's  work  for  it. 

Then  he  showed  us  another  little  job  he'd  printed 
(and  hadn't  charged  for,  because  it  was  for  us.  It 
had  a  picture  of  a  runaway  nigger  with  a  bundle  on 
a  stick  over  his  shoulder,  and  "$200  reward"  under 
it.  The  reading  was  all  about  Jim  and  just  described 
him  to  a  dot.  It  said  he  run  away  from  St.  Jacques's 
plantation,  forty  mile  below  New  Orleans,  last  win- 

183 


MARK  TWAIN 

ter,  and  likely  went  north,  and  whoever  would  catcri 
him  and  send  him  back  he  could  have  the  reward 
and  expenses. 

*  'Now,"  says  the  duke,  " after  to-night  we  can 
run  in  the  daytime  if  we  want  to.  Whenever  we  see 
anybody  coming  we  can  tie  Jim  hand  and  foot  with 
a  rope,  and  lay  him  in  the  wigwam  and  show  this 
handbill  and  say  we  captured  him  up  the  river,  and 
were  too  poor  to  travel  on  a  steamboat,  so  we  got 
this  little  raft  on  credit  from  our  friends  and  are 
going  down  to  get  the  reward.  Handcuffs  and 
chains  would  look  still  better  on  Jim,  but  it  wouldn't 
go  well  with  the  story  of  us  being  so  poor.  Too  much 
like  jewelry.  Ropes  are  the  correct  thing — we  must 
preserve  the  unities,  as  we  say  on  the  boards." 

We  all  said  the  duke  was  pretty  smart,  and  there 
couldn't  be  no  trouble  about  running  daytimes.  We 
judged  we  could  make  miles  enough  that  night  to 
get  out  of  the  reach  of  the  powwow  we  reckoned  the 
duke's  work  in  the  printing-office  was  going  to 
make  in  that  little  town;  then  we  could  boom  right 
along  if  we  wanted  to. 

We  laid  low  and  kept  still,  and  never  shoved  out 
till  nearly  ten  o'clock;  then  we  slid  by,  pretty  wide 
away  from  the  town,  and  didn't  hoist  our  lantern 
till  we  was  clear  out  of  sight  of  it. 

When  Jim  called  me  to  take  the  watch  at  four  in 
the  morning,  he  says: 

"Huck,  does  you  reck'n  we  gwyne  to  run  acrost 
any  mo'  kings  on  dis  trip?" 

"No,"  I  says,  "I  reckon  not." 

"Well,"  says  he,  "dat's  all  right,  den.  I  doan' 
x86 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

mine  one  er  two  kings,  but  dat's  enough.  Dis  one's 
powerful  drunk,  en  de  duke  am'  much  better.' ' 

I  found  Jim  had  been  trying  to  get  him  to  talk 
French,  so  he  could  hear  what  it  was  like;  but  he 
said  he  had  been  in  this  country  so  long,  and  had 
so  much  trouble,  he'd  forgot  it* 


187 


M.Tf-3-7 


CHAPTER  XXI 


IT  was  after  sun-up  now,  but  we  went  right  on  and 
didn't  tie  up.  The  king  and  the  duke  turned 
out  by  and  by  looking  pretty  rusty;  but  after  they'd 
jumped  overboard  and  took  a  swim  it  chippered 
them  up  a  good  deal.  After  breakfast  the  king  he 
took  a  seat  on  the  corner  of  the  raft,  and  pulled  off 
his  boots  and  rolled  up  his  britches,  and  let  his  legs 
dangle  in  the  water,  so  as  to  be  comfortable,  and 
lit  his  pipe,  and  went  to  getting  his  "  Romeo  and 
Juliet' '  by  heart.  When  he  had  got  it  pretty  good 
him  and  the  duke  begun  to  practise  it  together. 
The  duke  had  to  learn  him  over  and  over  again  how 
to  say  every  speech;  and  he  made  him  sigh,  and  put 
his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  after  a  while  he  said  he 
done  it  pretty  well;  "only,"  he  says,  "you  mustn't 
bellow  out  Romeo!  that  way,  like  a  bull — you  must 
say  it  soft  and  sick  and  languishy,  so — R-o-o-meo! 
that  is  the  idea;  for  Juliet's  a  dear  sweet  mere  child 
of  a  girl,  you  know,  and  she  doesn't  bray  like  a 
jackass." 

Well,  next  they  got  out  a  couple  of  long  swords 
that  the  duke  made  out  of  oak  laths,  and  begun  to 
practise  the  sword-fight — the  duke  called  himself 
Richard  III. ;  and  the  way  they  laid  on  and  pranced 
around  the  raft  was  grand  to  see.    But  by  and  by 

18S 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


the  king  tripped  and  fell  overboard,  and  after  that 
they  took  a  rest,  and  had  a  talk  about  all  kinds  of 
adventures  they'd  had  in  other  times  along  the  river. 

After  dinner  the  duke  says: 

"Well,  Capet,  we'll  want  to  make  this  a  first-class 
show,  you  know,  so  I  guess  we'll  add  a  little  more  to 
it.  We  want  a  littfe  something  to  answer  encores 
with,  anyway." 

"What's  onkores,  Bilgewater?" 

The  duke  told  him,  and  then  says: 

"I'll  answer  by  doing  the  Highland  fling  or  the 
sailor's  hornpipe;  and  you— well,  let  me  see — oh, 
I've  got  it — you  can  do  Hamlet's  soliloquy." 

"Hamlet's  which?" 

"Hamlet's  soliloquy,  you  know;  the  most  cele- 
brated thing  in  Shakespeare.  Ah,  it's  sublime,  sub- 
lime! Always  fetches  the  house.  I  haven't  got  it  in 
the  book— I've  only  got  one  volume—but  I  reckon  I 
can  piece  it  out  from  memory.  I'll  just  walk  up  and 
down  a  minute,  and  see  if  I  can  call  it  back  from 
recollection's  vaults." 

So  he  went  to  marching  up  and  down,  thinking,  and 
frowning  horrible  every  now  and  then;  then  he 
would  hoist  up  his  eyebrows;  next  he  would  squeeze 
his  hand  on  his  forehead  and  stagger  back  and  kind 
of  moan;  next  he  would  sigh,  and  next  he'd  let  on  to 
drop  a  tear.  It  was  beautiful  to  see  him.  By  and 
by  he  got  it.  He  told  us  to  give  attention.  Then 
he  strikes  a  most  noble  attitude,  with  one  leg  shoved 
forwards,  and  his  arms  stretched  away  up,  and  his 
head  tilted  back,  looking  up  at  the  sky;  and  then  he 
begins  to  rip  and  rave  and  grit  his  teeth;  and  after 

189 


MARK  TWAIN 


that,  all  through  his  speech,  he  howled,  and  spread 
around,  and  swelled  up  his  chest,  and  just  knocked 
the  spots  out  of  any  acting  ever  I  see  before.  This 
is  the  speech — I  learned  it,  easy  enough,  while  he 
was  learning  it  to  the  king : 

To  be,  or  not  to  be;  that  is  the  bare  bodkin 
That  makes  calamity  of  so  long  life; 

For  who  would  fardels  bear,  till  Birnam  W  jod  do  come  to 

Dunsinane, 
But  that  the  fear  of  something  after  death 
Murders  the  innocent  sleep, 
Great  nature's  second  course, 

And  makes  us  rather  sling  the  arrows  of  outrageous  fortune 
Than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of. 
There's  the  respect  must  give  us  pause: 
Wake  Duncan  with  thy  knocking!    I  would  thou  couldst; 
For  who  would  bear  the  whips  and  scorns  of  time, 
The  oppressor's  wrong,  the  proud  man's  contumely, 
The  law's  delay,  and  the  quietus  which  his  pangs  might  take, 
In  the  dead  waste  and  middle  of  the  night,  when  churchyards 
yawn 

In  customary  suits  of  solemn  black, 

But  that  the  undiscovered  country  from  whose  bourne  no 

traveler  returns, 
Breathes  forth  contagion  on  the  world, 

And  thus  the  native  hue  of  resolution,  like  the  poor  cat  i'  the 
adage, 

Is  sicklied  o'er  with  care, 

And  all  the  clouds  that  lowered  o'er  our  housetops, 
With  this  regard  their  currents  turn  awry, 
And  lose  the  name  of  action. 

'Tis  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  wished.    But  soft  you,  the 

fair  Ophelia: 
Ope  not  thy  ponderous  and  marble  jaws, 
But  get  thee  to  a  nunnery — go! 

Well,  the  old  man  he  liked  that  speech,  and  he 
mighty  soon  got  it  so  he  could  do  it  first  rate.  It 

190 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


seemed  like  he  was  just  born  for  it ;  and  when  he  had 
his  hand  in  and  was  excited,  it  was  perfectly  lovely 
the  way  he  would  rip  and  tear  and  rair  up  behind 
when  he  was  getting  it  off. 

The  first  chance  we  got  the  duke  he  had  some 
show-bills  printed;  and  after  that,  for  two  or  three 
days  as  we  floated  along,  the  raft  was  a  most  uncom- 
mon lively  place,  for  there  warn't  nothing  but  sword- 
fighting  and  rehearsing — as  the  duke  called  it — going 
on  all  the  time.  One  morning,  when  we  was  pretty 
well  down  the  state  of  Arkansaw,  we  come  in  sight 
of  a  little  one-horse  town  in  a  big  bend ;  so  we  tied  up 
about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  above  it,  in  the  mouth 
of  a  crick  which  was  shut  in  like  a  tunnel  by  the  cy- 
press trees,  and  all  of  us  but  Jim  took  the  canoe  and 
went  down  there  to  see  if  there  was  any  chance  in 
that  place  for  our  show. 

We  struck  it  mighty  lucky;  there  was  going  to  be 
a  circus  there  that  afternoon,  and  the  country-people 
was  already  beginning  to  come  in,  in  all  kinds  of  old 
shackly  wagons,  and  on  horses.  The  circus  would 
leave  before  night,  so  our  show  would  have  a  pretty 
good  chance.  The  duke  he  hired  the  court-house,  and 
we  went  around  and  stuck  up  our  bills.  They  read 
like  this: 

Shaksperean  Revival  !  !  ! 
Wonderful  Attraction! 
For  One  Night  Only! 
The  world  renowned  tragedians, 
David  Garrick  the  younger,  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  London, 

and 

Edmund  Kean  the  elder,  of  the  Royal  Haymarket  Theatre, 
Whitechapel,  Pudding  Lane,  Piccadilly,  London,  and  the 
Royal  Continental  Theatres,  in  their  sublime 
191 


MARK  TWAIN 


Shalcsperean  Spectacle  entitled 
The  Balcony  Scene 
in 

Romeo  and  Juliet  !  !  ! 

Romeo  Mr.  Garrick 

Juliet  Mr.  Kean 

Assisted  by  the  whole  strength  of  the  company! 
New   costumes,   new   scenery,   new   appointments  I 
Also: 

The'thrilling,  masterly,  and  blood-curdling 
Broad-sword  conflict 
In  Richard  III.  !  !  ! 

Richard  III   Mr.  Garrick 

Richmond  . . . .  Mr.  Kean 

Also: 
(by  special  request) 
Hamlet's  Immortal  Soliloquy  !  ! 
By  the  Illustrious  Kean! 
Done  by  him  300  consecutive  nights  in  Paris! 
For  One  Night  Only, 
On  account  of  imperative  European  engagements! 
Admission  25  cents;  children  and  servants,  10  cents. 

Then  we  went  loafing  around  town.  The  stores 
and  houses  was  most  all  old,  shackly,  dried-up  framei 
concerns  that  hadn't  ever  been  painted;  they  was 
set  up  three  or  four  foot  above  ground  on  stilts,  so 
as  to  be  out  of  reach  of  the  water  when  the  river  was 
overflowed.  The  houses  had  little  gardens  around 
them,  but  they  didn't  seem  to  raise  hardly  anything 
in  them  but  jimpson-weeds,  and  sunflowers,  and  ash- 
piles,  and  old  curled-up  boots  and  shoes,  and  pieces 
of  bottles,  and  rags,  and  played-out  tinware.  The 
fences  was  made  of  different  kinds  of  boards,  nailed 
on  at  different  times;  and  they  leaned  every  which 
way,  and  had  gates  that  didn't  generly  have  but 
one  hinge — a  leather  one.    Some  of  the  fences  had 

192 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


been  whitewashed  some  time  or  another,  but  the 
duke  said  it  was  in  Columbus's  time,  like  enough. 
There  was  g enerly  hogs  in  the  garden,  and  people 
driving  them  out. 

All  the  stores  was  along  one  street.  They  had  white 
domestic  awnings  in  front,  and  the  country-people 
hitched  their  horses  to  the  awning-posts.  There 
was  empty  dry-goods  boxes  under  the  awnings,  and 
loafers  roosting  on  them  all  day  long,  whittling  them 
with  their  Barlow  knives;  and  chawing  tobacco,  and 
gaping  and  yawning  and  stretching — a  mighty  ornery 
lot.  They  generly  had  on  yellow  straw  hats  most  as 
wide  as  an  umbrella,  but  didn't  wear  no  coats  nor 
waistcoats;  they  called  one  another  Bill,  and  Buck, 
and  Hank,  and  Joe,  and  Andy,  and  talked  lazy  and 
drawly,  and  used  considerable  many  cuss-words. 
There  was  as  many  as  one  loafer  leaning  up  against 
every  awning-post,  and  he  most  always  had  his  hands 
in  his  britches  pockets,  except  when  he  fetched  them 
out  to  lend  a  chaw  of  tobacco  or  scratch.  What  a 
body  was  hearing  amongst  them  all  the  time  was: 

" Gimme  a  chaw  V  tobacker,  Hank." 

* '  Cain't ;  I  hain't  got  but  one  chaw  left.  Ask  Bill. " 

Maybe  Bill  he  gives  him  a  chaw;  maybe  he  lies  and 
says  he  ain't  got  none.  Some  of  them  kinds  of 
loafers  never  has  a  cent  in  the  world,  nor  a  chaw  of 
tobacco  of  their  own.  They  get  all  their  chawing  by 
borrowing;  they  say  to  a  fellow,  "I  wisht  you'd  len' 
me  a  chaw,  Jack,  I  jist  this  minute  give  Ben  Thomp- 
son the  last  chaw  I  had  "—which  is  a  lie  pretty  much 
every  time;  it  don't  fool  nobody  but  a  stranger;  but 
Jack  ain't  no  stranger,  so  he  says: 


MARK  TWAIN 


"You  give  him  a  chaw,  did  you?  So  did  your 
sister's  cat's  grandmother.  You  pay  me  back  the 
chaws  you've  awready  borry'd  off 'n  me,  Lafe  Buck- 
ner,  then  I'll  loan  you  one  or  two  ton  of  it,  and  won't 
charge  you  no  back  intrust,  nuther." 

"Well,  I  did  pay  you  back  some  of  it  wunst." 

"Yes,  you  did — 'bout  six  chaws.  You  borry'd 
store  tobacker  and  paid  back  nigger-head." 

Store  tobacco  is  flat  black  plug,  but  these  fellows 
mostly  chaws  the  natural  leaf  twisted.  When  they 
borrow  a  chaw  they  don't  generly  cut  it  off  with  a 
knife,  but  set  the  plug  in  between  their  teeth,  and 
gnaw  with  their  teeth  and  tug  at  the  plug  with  their 
hands  till  they  get  it  in  two;  then  sometimes  the  one 
that  owns  the  tobacco  looks  mournful  at  it  when  it's 
handed  back,  and  says,  sarcastic : 

"Here,  gimme  the  chaw,  and  you  take  the  plug." 

All  the  streets  and  lanes  was  just  mud ;  they  warn't 
nothing  else  but  mud — mud  as  black  as  tar  and  nigh 
about  a  foot  deep  in  some  places,  and  two  or  three 
inches  deep  in  all  the  places.  The  hogs  loafed  and 
grunted  around  everywheres.  You'd  see  a  muddy 
sow  and  a  litter  of  pigs  come  lazying  along  the  street 
and  whollop  herself  right  down  in  the  way,  where 
folks  had  to  walk  around  her,  and  she'd  stretch  out 
and  shut  her  eyes  and  wave  her  ears  whilst  the  pigs 
was  milking  her,  and  look  as  happy  as  if  she  was 
on  salary.  And  pretty  soon  you'd  hear  a  loafer  sing 
out,  ' 4 Hi!  so  boy!  sick  him,  Tige!"  and  away  the 
sow  would  go,  squealing  most  horrible,  with  a  dog 
or  two  swinging  to  each  ear,  and  three  or  four  dozen 
more  a-coming;  and  then  you  would  see  all  the  loafers 

194 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


get  up  and  watch  the  thing  out  of  sight,  and  laugh 
at  the  fun  and  look  grateful  for  the  noise.  Then 
they'd  settle  back  again  till  there  was  a  dog-fight. 
There  couldn't  anything  wake  them  up  all  over,  and 
make  them  happy  all  over,  like  a  dog-fight — unless 
it  might  be  putting  turpentine  on  a  stray  dog  and 
setting  fire  to  him,  or  tying  a  tin  pan  to  his  tail 
and  see  him  run  himself  to  death. 

On  the  river-front  some  of  the  houses  was  sticking 
out  over  the  bank,  and  they  was  bowed  and  bent, 
and  about  ready  to  tumble  in.  The  people  had 
moved  out  of  them.  The  bank  was  caved  away 
,under  one  corner  of  some  others,  and  that  corner 
was  hanging  over.  People  lived  in  them  yet,  but 
it  was  dangersome,  because  sometimes  a  strip  of 
land  as  wide  as  a  house  caves  in  at  a  time.  Some- 
times a  bel?t  of  land  a  quarter  of  a  mile  deep  will 
start  in  and  cave  along  and  cave  along  till  it  all 
caves  into  the  river  in  one  summer.  Such  a  town 
as  that  has  to  be  always  moving  back,  and  back,  and 
back,  because  the  river's  always  gnawing  at  it. 

The  nearer  it  got  to  noon  that  day  the  thicker 
and  thicker  was  the  wagons  and  horses  in  the  streets, 
and  more  coming  all  the  time.  Families  fetched  their 
dinners  with  them  from  the  country,  and  eat  them 
in  the  wagons.  There  was  considerable  whisky- 
drinking  going  on,  and  I  seen  three  fights.  By  and 
by  somebody  sings  out: 

"Here  comes  old  Boggs! — in  from  the  country  for 
his  little  old  monthly  drunk;  here  he  comes,  boys!" 

All  the  loafers  looked  glad;  I  reckoned  they  was 
used  to  having  fun  out  of  Boggs.  One  of  them  says; 

m 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Wonder  who  he's  a-gwyne  to  chaw  up  this  time. 
If  he'd  a-chawed  up  all  the  men  he's  ben  a-gwyne  to 
chaw  up  in  the  last  twenty  year  he'd  have  consider- 
able imputation  now." 

Another  one  says,  "I  wisht  old  Boggs 'd  threaten 
me,  'cuz  then  I'd  know  I  warn't  gwyne  to  die  for 
a  thousan'  year." 

Boggs  comes  a-tearing  along  on  his  horse,  whoop- 
ing and  yelling  like  an  Injun,  and  singing  out: 

"Cler  the  track,  thar.  I'm  on  the  waw-path,  and 
the  price  uv  coffins  is  a-gwyne  to  raise." 

He  was  drunk,  and  weaving  about  in  his  saddle; 
he  was  over  fifty  year  old,  and  had  a  very  red  face. 
-Everybody  yelled  at  him  and  laughed  at  him  and 
sassed  him,  and  he  sassed  back,  and  said  he'd  attend 
to  them  and  lay  them  out  in  their  regular  turns,  but 
he  couldn't  wait  now  because  he'd  come  to  town  to 
kill  old  Colonel  Sherburn,  and  his  motto  was,  "Meat 
first,  and  spoon  vittles  to  top  off  on." 

He  see  me,  and  rode  up  and  says: 

* '  Whar'd  you  come  f 'm,  boy  ?  You  prepared  to  die  ?" 

Then  he  rode  on.    I  was  scared,  but  a  man  says: 

"He  don't  mean  nothing;  he's  always  a-carryin' 
on  like  that  when  he's  drunk.  He's  the  best -nat tired- 
est  old  fool  in  Arkansaw — never  hurt  nobody,  drunk 
nor  sober." 

Boggs  rode  up  before  the  biggest  store  m  town,  and 
bent  his  head  down  so  he  could  see  under  the  curtain 
of  the  awning  and  yells: 

"Come  out  here,  Sherburn!  Come  out  and  meet 
the  man  you've  swindled.  You're  the  noun'  I'm 
after,  and  I'm  a-gwyne  to  have  you,  tool" 

196 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


And  so  he  went  on,  calling  Sherburn  everything  he 
could  lay  his  tongue  to,  and  the  whole  street  packed 
with  people  listening  and  laughing  and  going  on. 
By  and  by  a  proud-looking  man  about  fifty-five — 
and  he  was  a  heap  the  best-dressed  man  in  that 
town,  too — steps  out  of  the  store,  and  the  crowd 
drops  back  on  each  side  to  let  him  come.  He  says 
to  Boggs,  mighty  ca'm  and  slow — he  says: 

"I'm  tired  of  this,  but  111  endure  it  till  one  o'clock. 
Till  one  o'clock,  mind — no  longer.  If  you  open  your 
mouth  against  me  only  once  after  that  time  you 
can't  travel  so  far  but  I  will  find  you." 

Then  he  turns  and  goes  in.  The  crowd  looked 
mighty  sober;  nobody  stirred,  and  there  warn't  no 
more  laughing.  Boggs  rode  off  blackguarding  Sher- 
burn as  loud  as  he  could  yell,  all  down  the  street; 
and  pretty  soon  back  he  comes  and  stops  before  the 
store,  still  keeping  it  up.  Some  men  crowded  around 
him  and  tried  to  get  him  to  shut  up,  but  he  wouldn't; 
they  told  him  it  would  be  one  o'clock  in  about  fifteen 
minutes,  and  so  he  must  go  home — he  must  go  right 
away.  But  it  didn't  do  no  good.  He  cussed  away 
with  all  his  might,  and  throwed  his  hat  down  in 
the  mud  and  rode  over  it,  and  pretty  soon  away  he 
went  a-raging  down  the  street  again,  with  his  gray 
hair  a-flying.  Everybody  that  could  get  a  chance 
at  him  tried  their  best  to  coax  him  off  of  his  horse 
so  they  could  lock  him  up  and  get  him  sober;  but  it 
warn't  no  use — up  the  street  he  would  tear  again, 
and  give  Sherburn  another  cussing.  By  and  by 
somebody  says: 

"Go  for  his  daughter! — quick,  go  for  his  daughter; 

197 


MARK  TWAIN 


sometimes  he'll  listen  to  her.  If  anybody  can 
persuade  him,  she  can." 

So  somebody  started  on  a  run.  I  walked  down 
street  a  ways  and  stopped.  In  about  five  or  ten 
minutes  here  comes  Boggs  again,  but  not  on  his 
horse.  He  was  a-reeling  across  the  street  towards 
me,  bareheaded,  with  a  friend  on  both  sides  of  him 
a-holt  of  his  arms  and  hurrying  him  along.  He  was 
quiet,  and  looked  uneasy;  and  he  warn't  hanging 
back  any,  but  was  doing  some  of  the  hurrying  him- 
self.   Somebody  sings  out: 

"Boggs!" 

I  looked  over  there  to  see  who  said  it,  and  it  was 
that  Colonel  Sherburn.  He  was  standing  perfectly 
still  in  the  street,  and  had  a  pistol  raised  in  his 
right  hand — not  aiming  it,  but  holding  it  out  with 
the  barrel  tilted  up  towards  the  sky.  The  same 
second  I  see  a  young  girl  coming  on  the  run,  and 
two  men  with  her.  Boggs  and  the  men  turned  round 
to  see  who  called  him,  and  when  they  see  the  pistol 
the  men  jumped  to  one  side,  and  the  pistol-barrel 
come  down  slow  and  steady  to  a  level — both  barrels 
cocked.  Boggs  throws  up  both  of  his  hands  and 
says,  "O  Lord,  don't  shoot!"  Bang!  goes  the  first 
shot,  and  he  staggers  back,  clawing  at  the  air — bang ! 
goes  the  second  one,  and  he  tumbles  backwards  on- 
to the  ground,  heavy  and  solid,  with  his  arms  spread 
out.  That  young  girl  screamed  out  and  comes 
rushing,  and  down  she  throws  herself  on  her  father, 
crying,  and  saying,  4 'Oh,  he's  killed  him,  he's  killed 
him!"  The  crowd  closed  up  around  them,  and 
shouldered  and  jammed  one  another,  with  their 

198' 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


necks  stretched,  trying  to  see,  and  people  on  the 
inside  trying  to  shove  them  back  and  shouting, 
"Back,  back!  give  him  air,  give  him  air!" 

Colonel  Sherburn  he  tossed  his  pistol  onto  the 
ground,  and  turned  around  on  his  heels  and  walked 
off. 

They  took  Boggs  to  a  little  drug  store,  the  crowd 
pressing  around  just  the  same,  and  the  whole  town 
following,  and  I  rushed  and  got  a  good  place  at  the 
window,  where  I  was  close  to  him  and  could  see  in. 
They  laid  him  on  the  floor  and  put  one  large  Bible 
under  his  head,  and  opened  another  one  and  spread 
it  on  his  breast;  but  they  tore  open  his  shirt  first, 
and  I  seen  where  one  of  the  bullets  went  in.  He 
made  about  a  dozen  long  gasps,  his  breast  lifting 
the  Bible  up  when  he  drawed  in  his  breath,  and 
letting  it  down  again  when  he  breathed  it  out— -and 
after  that  he  laid  still;  he  was  dead.  Then  they 
pulled  his  daughter  away  from  him,  screaming  and 
crying,  and  took  her  off.  She  was  about  sixteen,  and 
very  sweet  and  gentle  looking,  but  awful  pale  and 
scared. 

Well,  pretty  soon  the  whole  town  was  there, 
squirming  and  scrouging  and  pushing  and  shoving 
to  get  at  the  window  and  have  a  look,  but  people 
that  had  the  places  wouldn't  give  them  up,  and  folks 
behind  them  was  saying  all  the  time,  "Say,  now, 
you've  looked  enough,  you  fellows;  'tain't  right  and 
'tain't  fair  for  you  to  stay  thar  all  the  time,  and  never 
give  nobody  a  chance;  other  folks  has  their  rights  as 
well  as  you." 

There  was  considerable  jawing  back,  so  I  slid  out, 

199 


MARK  TWAIN 


thinking  maybe  there  was  going  to  be  trouble.  The 
streets  was  full,  and  everybody  was  excited.  Every 
body  that  seen  the  shooting  was  telling  how  it 
happened,  and  there  was  a  big  crowd  packed  around 
each  one  of  these  fellows,  stretching  their  necks  and 
listening.  One  long,  lanky  man,  with  long  hair  and 
a  big  white  fur  stovepipe  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  and  a  crooked-handled  cane,  marked  out  the 
places  on  the  ground  where  Boggs  stood  and  where 
Sherburn  stood,  and  the  people  following  him  around 
from  one  place  to  t'other  and  watching  everything 
he  done,  and  bobbing  their  heads  to  show  they 
understood,  and  stooping  a  little  and  resting  their 
hands  on  their  thighs  to  watch  him  mark  the  places 
on  the  ground  with  his  cane;  and  then  he  stood  up 
straight  and  stiff  where  Sherburn  had  stood,  frowning 
and  having  his  hat-brim  down  over  his  eyes,  and 
sung  out,  "Boggs!"  and  then  fetched  his  cane  down 
slow  to  a  level,  and  says  "Bang!"  staggered  back- 
wards, says  "Bang!"  again,  and  fell  down  flat  on  his 
back.  The  people  that  had  seen  the  thing  said  he 
done  it  perfect;  said  it  was  just  exactly  the  way  it  all 
happened.  Then  as  much  as  a  dozen  people  got  out 
their  bottles  and  treated  him. 

Well,  by  and  by  somebody  said  Sherburn  ought 
to  be  lynched.  In  about  a  minute  everybody  was 
sa3dng  it;  so  away  they  went,  mad  and  yelling,  and 
snatching  down  every  clothes-line  they  come  to  to 
do  the  hanging  with. 


200 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THEY  swarmed  up  towards  Sherburn's  house, 
a- whooping  and  raging  like  Injuns,  and  every- 
thing had  to  clear  the  way  or  get  run  over  and 
tromped  to  mush,  and  it  was  awful  to  see.  Children 
was  heeling  it  ahead  of  the  mob,  screaming  and 
trying  to  get  out  of  the  way;  and  every  window  along 
the  road  was  full  of  women's  heads,  and  there  was 
nigger  boys  in  every  tree,  and  bucks  and  wenches 
looking  over  every  fence;  and  as  soon  as  the  mob 
would  get  nearly  to  them  they  would  break  and 
skaddle  back  out  of  reach.  Lots  of  the  women  and 
girls  was  crying  and  taking  on,  scared  most  to  death. 

They  swarmed  up  in  front  of  Sherburn's  palings 
as  thick  as  they  could  jam  together,  and  you  couldn't 
hear  yourself  think  for  the  noise.  It  was  a  little 
twenty-foot  yard.  Some  sung  out  "Tear  down  the 
fence!  tear  down  the  fence!"  Then  there  was  a 
racket  of  ripping  and  tearing  and  smashing,  and  down 
she  goes,  and  the  front  wall  of  the  crowd  begins  to 
roll  in  like  a  wave. 

Just  then  Sherburn  steps  out  onto  the  roof  of  his 
little  front  porch,  with  a  double-barrel  gun  in  his 
hand,  and  takes  his  stand,  perfectly  ca'm  and  de- 
liberate, not  saying  a  word.  The  racket  stopped, 
and  the  wave  sucked  back. 

201 


MARK  TWAIN 


Sherburn  never  said  a  word — just  stood  there,  look- 
ing down.  The  stillness  was  awful  creepy  and  un- 
comfortable. Sherburn  run  his  eye  slow  along  the 
crowd;  and  wherever  it  struck  the  people  tried  a 
little  to  outgaze  him,  but  they  couldn't;  they 
dropped  their  eyes  and  looked  sneaky.  Then  pretty 
soon  Sherburn  sort  of  laughed ;  not  the  pleasant  kind, 
but  the  kind  that  makes  you  feel  like  when  you  are 
eating  bread  that's  got  sand  in  it. 

Then  he  says,  slow  and  scornful: 

1 '  The  idea  of  you  lynching  anybody !  It's  amusing. 
The  idea  of  you  thinking  you  had  pluck  enough  to 
lynch  a  man!  Because  you're  brave  enough  to  tar 
and  feather  poor  friendless  cast-out  women  that  come 
along  here,  did  that  make  you  think  you  had  grit 
enough  to  lay  your  hands  on  a  man?  Why,  a  maris 
safe  in  the  hands  of  ten  thousand  of  your  kind — as 
long  as  it's  daytime  and  you're  not  behind  him. 

"Do  I  know  you?  I  know  you  clear  through.  I 
was  born  and  raised  in  the  South,  and  I've  lived  in 
the  North;  so  I  know  the  average  all  around.  The 
average  man's  a  coward.  In  the  North  he  lets  any- 
body walk  over  him  that  wants  to,  and  goes  home  and 
prays  for  a  humble  spirit  to  bear  it.  In  the  South 
one  man,  all  by  himself,  has  stopped  a  stage  full  of 
men  in  the  daytime,  and  robbed  the  lot.  Your  news- 
papers call  you  a  brave  people  so  much  that  you  think 
you  are  braver  than  any  other  people — whereas 
you're  just  as  brave,  and  no  braver.  Why  don't 
your  juries  hang  murderers?  Because  they're  afraid 
the  man's  friends  will  shoot  them  in  the  back,  in  the 
dark-— and  it's  just  what  they  would  do. 

202 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

"So  they  always  acquit;  and  then  a  man  goes  in- 
the  night,  with  a  hundred  masked  cowards  at  his 
back,  and  lynches  the  rascal.  Your  mistake  is,  that 
you  didn't  bring  a  man  with  you;  that's  one  mistake, 
and  the  other  is  that  you  didn't  come  in  the  dark 
and  fetch  your  masks.  You  brought  part  of  a  man — 
Buck  Harkness,  there — and  if  you  hadn't  had  him 
to  start  you,  you'd  'a'  taken  it  out  in  blowing. 

"You  didn't  want  to  come.  The  average  man 
don't  like  trouble  and  danger.  You  don't  like  trouble 
and  danger.  But  if  only  half  a  man — like  Buck 
Harkness,  there — shouts  'Lynch  him!  lynch  him!' 
you're  afraid  to  back  down — afraid  you'll  be  found 
out  to  be  what  you  are — cowards — and  so  you  raise 
a  yell,  and  hang  yourselves  onto  that  half-a-man's 
coat-tail,  and  come  raging  up  here,  swearing  what  big 
things  you're  going  to  do.  The  pitifulest  thing  out  is 
a  mob;  that's  what  an  army  is — a  mob;  they  don't 
fight  with  courage  that's  born  in  them,  but  with  cour-j 
age  that's  borrowed  from  their  mass,  and  from  their 
officers.  But  a  mob  without  any  man  at  the  head  of 
it  is  beneath  pitifulness.  Now  the  thing  for  you  to  do 
is  to  droop  your  tails  and  go  home  and  crawl  in  a 
hole.  If  any  real  lynching's  going  to  be  done  it  will 
be  done  in  the  dark,  Southern  fashion;  and  when  they 
come  they'll  bring  their  masks,  and  fetch  a  man  along. 
Now  leave — and  take  your  half-a-man  with  you" — 
tossing  his  gun  up  across  his  left  arm  and  cocking  it 
when  he  says  this. 

The  crowd  washed  back  sudden,  and  then  broke 
all  apart,  and  went  tearing  off  every  which  way,  and 
Buck  Harkness  he  heeled  it  after  them,  looking  tol- 

203 


MARK  TWAIN 


erable  cheap.  I  could  'a'  stayed  if  I  wanted  to,  but 
I  didn't  want  to. 

I  went  to  the  circus  and  loafed  around  the  back 
side  till  the  watchman  went  by,  and  then  dived  in 
under  the  tent.  I  had  my  twenty-dollar  gold  piece 
and  some  other  money,  but  I  reckoned  I  better  save 
it,  because  there  ain't  no  telling  how  soon  you  are 
going  to  need  it,  away  from  home  and  amongst 
strangers  that  way.  You  can't  be  too  careful.  I 
ain't  opposed  to  spending  money  on  circuses  when 
there  ain't  no  other  way,  but  there  ain't  no  use  in 
wasting  it  on  them. 

It  was  a  real  bully  circus.  It  was  the  splendidest 
sight  that  ever  was  when  they  all  come  riding  in, 
two  and  two,  and  gentleman  and  lady,  side  by  side, 
the  men  just  in  their  drawers  and  undershirts,  and 
no  shoes  nor  stirrups,  and  resting  their  hands  on  their 
thighs  easy  and  comfortable — there  must  'a'  been 
twenty  of  them — and  every  lady  with  a  lovely  com- 
plexion, and  perfectly  beautiful,  and  looking  just  like 
a  gang  of  real  sure-enough  queens,  and  dressed  in 
clothes  that  cost  millions  of  dollars,  and  just  littered 
with  diamonds.  It  was  a  powerful  fine  sight;  I  never 
see  anything  so  lovely.  And  then  one  by  one  they 
got  up  and  stood,  and  went  a-weaving  around  the 
ring  so  gentle  and  wavy  and  graceful,  the  men  looking 
ever  so  tall  and  airy  and  straight,  with  their  heads 
bobbing  and  skimming  along,  away  up  there  under 
the  tent-roof,  and  every  lady's  rose-leafy  dress  flap- 
ping soft  and  silky  around  her  hips,  and  she  looking 
like  the  most  loveliest  parasol. 

And  then  faster  and  faster  they  went,  all  of  them 
204 


,  HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

1 

dancing,  first  one  foot  out  in  the  air  and  then  the 
other,  the  horses  leaning  more  and  more,  and  the 
ringmaster  going  round  and  round  the  center  pole, 
cracking  his  whip  and  shouting  "Hi!— hi!"  and  the 
clown  cracking  jokes  behind  him;  and  by  and  by  all 
hands  dropped  the  reins,  and  every  lady  put  her 
knuckles  on  her  hips  and  every  gentleman  folded  his 
arms,  and  then  how  the  horses  did  lean  over  and 
hump  themselves!  And  so  one  after  the  other  they 
all  skipped  off  into  the  ring,  and  made  the  sweetest 
bow  I  ever  see,  and  then  scampered  out,  and  every- 
body clapped  their  hands  and  went  just  about  wild. 

Well,  all  through  the  circus  they  done  the  most 
astonishing  things;  and  all  the  time  that  clown  car- 
ried on  so  it  most  killed  the  people.  The  ringmaster 
couldn't  ever  say  a  word  to  him  but  he  was  back  at 
him  quick  as  a  wink  with  the  funniest  things  a  body 
ever  said;  and  how  he  ever  could  think  of  so  many  of 
them,  and  so  sudden  and  so  pat,  was  what  I  couldn't 
no  way  understand.  Why,  I  couldn't  'a'  thought  of 
them  in  a  year.  And  by  and  by  a  drunken  man  tried 
to  get  into  the  ring— said  he  wanted  to  ride;  said  he 
could  ride  as  well  as  anybody  that  ever  was.  They 
argued  and  tried  to  keep  him  out,  but  he  wouldn't 
listen,  and  the  whole  show  come  to  a  standstill.  Then 
the  people  begun  to  holler  at  him  and  make  fun  of 
him,  and  that  made  him  mad,  and  he  begun  to  rip 
and  tear;  so  that  stirred  up  the  people,  and  a  lot  of 
men  begun  to  pile  down  off  of  the  benches  and  swarm 
toward  the  ring,  saying,  "Knock  him  down!  throw 
him  out!"  and  one  or  two  women  begun  to  scream.* 
So,  then,  the  ringmaster  he  made  a  little  speech,  and 

205 


MARK  TWAIN 

said  he  hoped  there  wouldn't  be  no  disturbance,  and 
if  the  man  would  promise  he  wouldn't  make  no  more 
trouble  he  would  let  him  ride  if  he  thought  he  could 
stay  on  the  horse.  So  everybody  laughed  and  said  all 
right,  and  the  man  got  on.  The  minute  he  was  on, 
the  horse  begun  to  rip  and  tear  and  jump  and  cavort 
around,  with  two  circus  men  hanging  on  to  his  bridle 
trying  to  hold  him,  and  the  drunken  man  hanging  on 
to  his  neck,  and  his  heels  flying  in  the  air  every  jump, 
and  the  whole  crowd  of  people  standing  up  shouting 
and  laughing  till  tears  rolled  down.  And  at  last,  sure 
enough,  all  the  circus  men  could  do,  the  horse  broke 
loose,  and  away  he  went  like  the  very  nation,  round 
and  round  the  ring,  with  that  sot  laying  down  on  him 
and  hanging  to  his  neck,  with  first  one  leg  hanging 
most  to  the  ground  on  one  side,  and  then  t'other  one 
on  t'other  side,  and  the  people  just  crazy.  It  warn't 
funny  to  me,  though ;  I  was  all  of  a  tremble  to  see  his 
danger.  But  pretty  soon  he  struggled  up  astraddle 
and  grabbed  the  bridle,  a-reeling  this  way  and  that; 
and  the  next  minute  he  sprung  up  and  dropped  the 
bridle  and  stood !  and  the  horse  a-going  like  a  house 
afire,  too.  He  just  stood  up  there,  a-sailing  around 
as  easy  and  comfortable  as  if  he  warn't  ever  drunk  in 
his  life — and  then  he  begun  to  pull  off  his  clothes 
and  sling  them.  He  shed  them  so  thick  they  kind 
of  clogged  up  the  air,  and  altogether  he  shed  seven- 
teen suits.  And,  then,  there  he  was,  slim  and  hand- 
some, and  dressed  the  gaudiest  and  prettiest  you 
ever  saw,  and  he  lit  into  that  horse  with  his  whip 
and  made  him  fairly  hum — and  finally  skipped  off, 
and  made  his  bow  and  danced  off  to  the  dressing- 

206 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


room,  and  everybody  just  a-howling  with  pleasure 
and  astonishment. 

Then  the  ringmaster  he  see  how  he  had  been  fooled, 
and  he  was  the  sickest  ringmaster  you  ever  see,  I 
reckon.  Why,  it  was  one  of  his  own  men!  He  had 
got  up  that  joke  all  out  of  his  own  head,  and  never  let 
on  to  nobody.  Well,  I  felt  sheepish  enough  to  be 
took  in  so,  but  I  wouldn't  'a'  been  in  that  ringmaster's 
place,  not  for  a  thousand  dollars.  I  don't  know; 
there  may  be  bullier  circuses  than  what  that  one 
was,  but  I  never  struck  them  yet.  Anyways,  it  was 
plenty  good  enough  for  me;  and  wherever  I  run 
across  it,  it  can  have  all  of  my  custom  every  time. 

Well,  that  night  we  had  our  show;  but  there  warn't 
only  about  twelve  people  there — just  enough  to  pay 
expenses.  And  they  laughed  all  the  time,  and  that 
made  the  duke  mad;  and  everybody  left,  anyway, 
before  the  show  was  over,  but  one  boy  which  was 
asleep.  So  the  duke  said  these  Arkansaw  lunkheads 
couldn't  come  up  to  Shakespeare;  what  they  wanted 
was  low  comedy — and  maybe  something  ruther  worse 
than  low  comedy,  he  reckoned.  He  said  he  could  size 
their  style.  So  next  morning  he  got  some  big  sheets  of 
wrapping-paper  and  some  black  paint,  and  drawed  off 
some  handbills,  and  stuck  them  up  all  over  the  village. 
The  bills  said: 

AT  THE  COURT  HOUSE! 

FOR  3  NIGHTS  ONLY.' 

The  World-Renowned  Tragedians 
DAVID  GARRICK  THE  YOUNGER! 

AND 

EDMUND  KEAN  THE  ELDER! 
Of  the  London  and  Continental 
Theatres, 
207 


MARK  TWAIN 

In  their  Thrilling  Tragedy  of 
THE  KING'S  CAMELEOPARD, 

OR 

THE  ROYAL  NONESUCH ! 
Admission  50  cents. 

Then  at  the  bottom  was  the  biggest  line  of  all,  which 
said: 

LADIES  AND  CHILDREN  NOT  ADMITTED 

"There,"  says  he,  "if  that  line  don't  fetch  them,  I 
don't  know  Arkansaw!" 


208 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


WELL,  all  day  him  and  the  king  was  hard  at  it, 
rigging  up  a  stage  and  a  curtain  and  a  row  of 
candles  for  footlights;  and  that  night  the  house  was 
jam  full  of  men  in  no  time.  When  the  place  couldn't 
hold  no  more,  the  duke  he  quit  tending  door  and  went 
around  the  back  way  and  come  onto  the  stage  and 
stood  up  before  the  curtain  and  made  a  little  speech, 
and  praised  up  this  tragedy,  and  said  it  was  the  most 
thrillingest  one  that  ever  was ;  and  so  he  went  on  a- 
bragging  about  the  tragedy,  and  about  Edmund  Kean 
the  Elder,  which  was  to  play  the  main  principal  part 
in  it;  and  at  last  when  he'd  got  everybody's  expecta- 
tions up  high  enough,  he  rolled  up  the  curtain,  and 
the  next  minute  the  king  come  a-prancing  out  on  al] 
fours,  naked;  and  he  was  painted  all  over,  ring- 
streaked-and-striped,  all  sorts  of  colors,  as  splendid 
as  a  rainbow.  And — -but  never  mind  the  rest  of  his 
outfit;  it  was  just  wild,  but  it  was  awful  funny.  The 
people  most  killed  themselves  laughing;  and  when 
the  king  got  done  capering  and  capered  off  behind 
the  scenes,  they  roared  and  clapped  and  stormed 
and  haw-hawed  till  he  come  back  and  done  it  over 
again,  and  after  that  they  made  him  do  it  another 
time.  Well,  it  would  make  a  cow  laugh  to  see  the 
shines  that  old  idiot  cut. 
i  -  209 


MARK  TWAIN 

Then  the  duke  he  lets  the  curtain  down,  and  bows 
to  the  people,  and  says  the  great  tragedy  will  be  per- 
formed only  two  nights  more,  on  accounts  of  pressing 
London  engagements,  where  the  seats  is  all  sold 
already  for  it  in  Drury  Lane;  and  then  he  makes 
them  another  bow,  and  says  if  he  has  succeeded 
in  pleasing  them  and  instructing  them,  he  will  be 
deeply  obleeged  if  they  will  mention  it  to  their  friends 
and  get  them  to  come  and  see  it. 

Twenty  people  sings  out : 

"What,  is  it  over?    Is  that  all?" 

The  duke  says  yes.  Then  there  was  a  fine  time. 
Everybody  sings  out,  "Sold!"  and  rose  up  mad, 
and  was  a-going  for  that  stage  and  them  tragedians. 
But  a  big,  fine-looking  man  jumps  up  on  a  bench 
and  shouts : 

"Hold  on!  Just  a  word,  gentlemen."  They 
stopped  to  listen.  ' 1  We  are  sold — mighty  badly  sold. 
But  we  don't  want  to  be  the  laughing-stock  of  this 
whole  town,  I  reckon,  and  never  hear  the  last  of  this 
thing  as  long  as  we  live.  No.  What  we  want  is  to 
go  out  of  here  quiet,  and  talk  this  show  up,  and  sell 
the  rest  of  the  town!  Then  we'll  all  be  in  the  same 
boat.  Ain't  that  sensible?"  ("You  bet  it  is! — the 
jedge  is  right!"  everybody  sings  out.)  "All  right, 
then — not  a  word  about  any  sell.  Go  along  home, 
and  advise  everybody  to  come  and  see  the  tragedy." 

Next  day  you  couldn't  hear  nothing  around  that 
town  but  how  splendid  that  show  was.  House  was 
jammed  again  that  night,  and  we  sold  this  crowd  the 
same  way.  When  me  and  the  king  and  the  duke 
got  home  to  the  raft  we  all  had  a  supper;  and  by  \ 

2IO 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


and  by,  about  midnight,  they  made  Jim  and  me 
back  her  out  and  float  her  down  the  middle  of  the 
river,  and  fetch  her  in  and  hide  her  about  two  mile 
below  town. 

The  third  night  the  house  was  crammed  again — 
and  they  warn't  new-comers  this  time,  but  people 
that  was  at  the  show  the  other  two  nights.  I  stood 
by  the  duke  at  the  door,  and  I  see  that  every  man 
that  went  in  had  his  pockets  bulging,  or  something 
muffled  up  under  his  coat — and  I  see  it  warn't  no 
perfumery,  neither,  not  by  a  long  sight.  I  smelt 
sickly  eggs  by  the  barrel,  and  rotten  cabbages,  and 
such  things;  and  if  I  know  the  signs  of  a  dead  cat 
being  around,  and  I  bet  I  do,  there  was  sixty-four 
of  them  went  in.  I  shoved  in  there  for  a  minute, 
but  it  was  too  various  for  me;  I  couldn't  stand  it. 
Well,  when  the  place  couldn't  hold  no  more  people 
the  duke  he  give  a  fellow  a  quarter  and  told  him  to 
tend  door  for  him  a  minute,  and  then  he  started 
around  for  the  stage  door,  I  after  him ;  but  the  minute 
we  turned  the  corner  and  was  in  the  dark  he  says : 

' '  Walk  fast  now  till  you  get  away  from  the  houses, 
and  then  shin  for  the  raft  like  the  dickens  was  after 
you!" 

I  done  it,  and  he  done  the  same.  We  struck  the 
raft  at  the  same  time,  and  in  less  than  two  seconds 
we  was  gliding  down-stream,  all  dark  and  still,  and 
edging  towards  the  middle  of  the  river,  nobody 
saying  a  word.  I  reckoned  the  poor  king  was  in  for 
a  gaudy  time  of  it  with  the  audience,  but  nothing  of 
the  sort;  pretty  soon  he  crawls  out  from  under  the 
wigwam,  and  says: 

211 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Well,  how'd  the  old  thing  pan  out  this  time, 
duke?"    He  hadn't  been  up-town  at  all. 

We  never  showed  a  light  till  we  was  about  ten 
mile  below  the  village.  Then  we  lit  up  and  had  a 
supper,  and  the  king  and  the  duke  fairly  laughed 
their  bones  loose  over  the  way  they'd  served  them 
people.    The  duke  says: 

"Greenhorns,  flatheads!  I  knew  the  first  house 
would  keep  mum  and  let  the  rest  of  the  town  get 
roped  in;  and  I  knew  they'd  lay  for  us  the  third 
night,  and  consider  it  was  their  turn  now.  Well,  it 
is  their  turn,  and  I'd  give  something  to  know  how 
much  they'd  take  for  it.  I  would  just  like  to  know 
how  they're  putting  in  their  opportunity.  They  can 
turn  it  into  a  picnic  if  they  want  to— they  brought 
plenty  provisions . ' ' 

Them  rapscallions  took  in  four  hundred  and 
sixty-five  dollars  in  that  three  nights.  I  never  see 
money  hauled  in  by  the  wagon-load  like  that  before. 

By  and  by,  when  they  was  asleep  and  snoring,  Jim 
says: 

'  'Don't  it  s'prise  you  de  way  dem  kings  carries 
on,  Huck?" 

"No,"  I  says,  "it  don't." 
"Why  don't  it,  Huck?" 

' 1  Well,  it  don't,  because  it's  in  the  breed.  I  reckon 
they're  all  alike." 

"But,  Huck,  dese  kings  o'  ourn  is  reglar  rapscal- 
lions ;  dat's  jist  what  dey  is ;  dey's  reglar  rapscallions." 

"Well,  that's  what  I'm  a-saying;  all  kings  is 
mostly  rapscallions,  as  fur  as  I  can  make  out." 

"Is  dat  so?" 

312 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


i*You  read  about  them  once — you'll  see.  Look 
at  Henry  the  Eight;  this  V  's  a  Sunday-school 
Superintendent  to  him.  And  look  at  Charles  Second, 
and  Louis  Fourteen,  and  Louis  Fifteen,  and  James 
Second,  and  Edward  Second,  and  Richard  Third,  and 
forty  more;  besides  all  them  Saxon  heptarchies  that 
used  to  rip  around  so  in  old  times  and  raise  Cain. 
My,  you  ought  to  seen  old  Hemy  the  Eight  when 
he  was  in  bloom.  He  was  sl  blossom.  He  used  to 
marry  a  new  wife  every  day,  and  chop  off  her  head 
next  morning.  And  he  would  do  it  just  as  indiffer- 
ent as  if  he  was  ordering  up  eggs.  1  Fetch  up  Nell 
Gwynn,,  he  says.  They  fetch  her  up.  Next  morn- 
ing, 'Chop  off  her  head!'  And  they  chop  it  off. 
'Fetch  up  Jane  Shore,'  he  says;  and  up  she  comes. 
Next  morning,  'Chop  off  her  head'* — and  they  chop 
it  off.  'Ring  up  Fair  Rosamun. '  Fair  Rosamun 
answers  the  bell.  Next  morning,  'Chop  off  her 
head.'  And  he  made  every  one  of  them  tell  him  a 
tale  every  night;  and  he  kept  that  up  till  he  had 
hogged  a  thousand  and  one  tales  that  way,  and  then 
he  put  them  all  in  a  book,  and  called  it  Domesday 
Book — which  was  a  good  name  and  stated  the  case. 
You  don't  know  kings,  Jim,  but  I  know  them;  and 
this  old  rip  of  ourn  is  one  of  the  cleanest  I've  struck 
in  history.  Well,  Henry  he  takes  a  notion  he  wants 
to  get  up  some  trouble  with  this  country.  How  does 
he  go  at  it — give  notice? — give  the  country  a  show? 
No.  All  of  a  sudden  he  heaves  all  the  tea  in  Boston 
Harbor  overboard,  and  whacks  out  a  declaration  of 
independence,  and  dares  them  to  come  on.  That 
was  his  style— he  never  give  anybody  a  chance.  He 


213 


MARK  TWAIN 


had  suspicions  of  his  father,  the  Duke  of  Wellington, 
Well,  what  did  he  do?  Ask  him  to  show  up?  No— 
drownded  him  in  a  butt  of  mamsey,  like  a  cat. 
S'pose  people  left  money  laying  around  where  he  was 
— what  did  he  do?  He  collared  it.  S'pose  he  con- 
tracted to  do  a  thing,  and  you  paid  him,  and  didn't 
set  down  there  and  see  that  he  done  it — what  did 
he  do?  He  always  done  the  other  thing.  S'pose  he 
opened  his  mouth — what  then?  If  he  didn't  shut 
it  up  powerful  quick  he'd  lose  a  lie  every  time. 
That's  the  kind  of  a  bug  Henry  was;  and  if  we'd  'a* 
had  him  along  'stead  of  our  kings  he'd  'a'  fooled  that 
town  a  heap  worse  than  ourn  done.  I  don't  say  that 
ourn  is  lambs,  because  they  ain't,  when  you  come 
right  down  to  the  cold  facts;  but  they  ain't  nothing 
to  that  old  ram,  anyway.  All  I  say  is,  kings  is  kings, 
and  you  got  to  make  allowances.  Take  them  all 
around,  they're  a  mighty  ornery  lot.  It's  the  way 
they're  raised." 

4 'But  dis  one  do  smell  so  like  de  nation,  Huck." 
'  ''Well,  they  all  do,  Jim.  We  can't  help  the  way 
a  king  smells;  history  don't  tell  no  way." 

"Now  de  duke,  he's  a  tolerble  likely  man  in  some 
ways." 

"Yes,  a  duke's  different.  But  not  very  different. 
This  one's  a  middling  hard  lot  for  a  duke.  When 
he's  drunk  there  ain't  no  near-sighted  man  could  tell 
him  from  a  king." 

"Well,  anyways,  I  doan'  hanker  for  no  mo'  un 
um,  Huck.    Dese  is  all  I  kin  stan'." 

"It's  the  way  I  feel,  too,  Jim.  But  we've  got 
them  on  our  hands,  and  we  got  to  remember  whaE 

214 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


they  are,  and  make  allowances.  Sometimes  I  wish 
we  could  hear  of  a  country  that's  out  of  kings." 

What  was  the  use  to  tell  Jim  these  warn't  real 
kings  and  dukes?  It  wouldn't 'a' done  no  good;  and, 
besides,  it  was  just  as  I  said:  you  couldn't  tell  them 
from  the  real  kind. 

I  went  to  sleep,  and  Jim  didn't  call  me  when  it 
was  my  turn.  He  often  done  that.  When  I  waked 
up  just  at  daybreak  he  was  sitting  there  with  his 
head  down  betwixt  his  knees,  moaning  and  mourning 
to  himself.  I  didn't  take  notice  nor  let  on.  I 
knowed  what  it  was  about.  He  was  thinking  about 
his  wife  and  his  children,  away  up  yonder,  and  he 
was  low  and  homesick;  because  he  hadn't  ever  been 
away  from  home  before  in  his  life;  and  I  do  believe 
he  cared  just  as  much  for  his  people  as  white  folks 
does  for  their'n.  It  don't  seem  natural,  but  I 
reckon  it's  so.  He  was  often  moaning  and  mourning 
that  way  nights,  when  he  judged  I  was  asleep,  and 
saying,  "Po'  little  'Lizabeth!  po'  little  Johnny!  it's 
mighty  hard;  I  spec'  I  ain't  ever  gwyne  to  see  you 
no  mo',  no  mo'!"  He  was  a  mighty  good  nigger, 
Jim  was. 

But  this  time  I  somehow  got  to  talking  to  him 
about  his  wife  and  young  ones;  and  by  and  by  he 
says: 

"What  makes  me  feel  so  bad  dis  time  'uz  bekase 
I  hear  sumpn  over  yonder  on  de  bank  like  a  whack, 
er  a  slam,  while  ago,  en  it  mine  me  er  de  time  I 
treat  my  little  'Lizabeth  so  ornery.  She  warn't  on'y 
'bout  fo'  year  ole,  en  she  tuck  de  sk'yarlet  fever,  en 
had  a  powful  rough  spell;  but  she  got  well,  en  one 

215 


MARK  TWAIN 


day  she  was  a-stannin'  aroun',  en  I  says  to  her,  I 
says: 

'"Shet  de  do'.' 

4 4 She  never  done  it;  jis'  stood  dah,  kiner  smilin' 
up  at  me.  It  make  me  mad ;  en  I  says  ag'in,  mighty 
loud,  I  says: 

"'Doan'  you  hear  me?    Shet  de  do'!" 

"She  jis  stood  de  same  way,  kiner  smilin*  up.  I 
was  a-bilinM    I  says: 

* ' ' 1  lay  I  make  you  mine ! ' 

"En  wid  dat  I  fetch'  her  a  slap  side  de  head  dat 
sont  her  a-sprawlin'.  Den  I  went  into  de  yuther 
room,  en  'uz  gone  'bout  ten  minutes;  en  when  I 
come  back  dah  was  dat  do'  a-stannin'  open  yit,  en 
dat  chile  stannin'  mos'  right  in  it,  a-lookin'  down 
and  mournin',  en  de  tears  runnin'  down.  My,  but 
I  wuz  mad !  I  was  a-gwyne  for  de  chile,  but  jis'  den 
— it  was  a  do'  dat  open  innerds— jis'  den,  'long  come 
de  wind  en  slam  it  to,  behine  de  chile,  ker-blam! — ■ 
en  my  lan',  de  chile  never  move' !  My  breff  mos'  hop 
outer  me;  en  I  feel  so — so— I  doan'  know  how  I  feel. 
I  crope  out,  all  a-tremblin',  en  crope  aroun'  en  open 
de  do'  easy  en  slow,  en  poke  my  head  in  behine  de 
chile,  sof  en  still,  en  all  uv  a  sudden  I  says  pow! 
jis'  as  loud  as  I  could  yell.  She  never  budge!  Oh, 
Huck,  I  bust  out  a-cryin'  en  grab  her  u'p  in  my  arms, 
en  say,  'Oh,  de  po'  little  thing!  De  Lord  God 
Amighty  fogive  po'  ole  Jim,  kaze  he  never  gwyne  to 
f ogive  hisself  as  long's  he  live ! '  Oh,  she  was  plumb 
deef  en  dumb,  Huck,  plumb  deef  en  dumb— en  I'd 
ben  a-treat'n  her  so!'* 


216 


(CHAPTER  XXIV 


NEXT  day,  towards  night,  we  laid  up  under  a  little 
willow  towhead  out  in  the  middle,  where  there 
was  a  village  on  each  side  of  the  river,  and  the  duke 
and  the  king  begun  to  lay  out  a  plan  for  working 
them  towns.  Jim  he  spoke  to  the  duke,  and  said  he 
hoped  it  wouldn't  take  but  a  few  hours,  because  it 
got  mighty  heavy  and  tiresome  to  him  when  he  had 
to  lay  all  day  in  the  wigwam  tied  with  the  rope. 
You  see,  when  we  left  him  all  alone  we  had  to  tie  him, 
because  if  anybody  happened  on  to  him  all  by  him- 
self and  not  tied  it  wouldn't  look  much  like  he  was  a 
runaway  nigger,  you  know.  So  the  duke  said  it  was 
kind  of  hard  to  have  to  lay  roped  all  day,  and  he'd 
cipher  out  some  way  to  get  around  it. 

He  was  uncommon  bright,  the  duke  was,  and  he 
soon  struck  it.  He  dressed  Jim  up  in  King  Lear's 
outfit — it  was  a  long  curtain-calico  gown,  and  a  white 
horse-hair  wig  and  whiskers;  and  then  he  took  his 
theater  paint  and  painted  Jim's  face  and  hands  and 
ears  and  neck  all  over  a  dead,  dull  solid  blue,  like  a 
man  that's  been  drownded  nine  days.  Blamed  if  he 
warn't  the  horriblest -looking  outrage  I  ever  see.  Then 
the  duke  took  and  wrote  out  a  sign  on  a  shingle  so: 


Sick  Arab — but  harmless  when  not  out  of  his  head. 
217 


MARK  TWAIN 

And  he  nailed  that  shingle  to  a  lath,  and  stood  the 
lath  up  four  or  five  foot  in  front  of  the  wigwam.  Jim 
was  satisfied.  He  said  it  was  a  sight  better  than  lying 
tied  a  couple  of  years  every  day,  and  trembling  all 
over  every  time  there  was  a  sound.  The  duke  told 
him  to  make  himself  free  and  easy,  and  if  anybody 
ever  come  meddling  around,  he  must  hop  out  of  the 
wigwam,  and  carry  on  a  little,  and  fetch  a  howl  or 
two  like  a  wild  beast,  and  he  reckoned  they  would 
light  out  and  leave  him  alone.  Which  was  sound 
enough  judgment;  but  you  take  the  average  man, 
and  he  wouldn't  wait  for  him  to  howl.  Why,  he 
didn't  only  look  like  he  was  dead,  he  looked  consid- 
erable more  than  that. 

These  rapscallions  wanted  to  try  the  Nonesuch 
again,  because  there  was  so  much  money  in  it,  but 
they  judged  it  wouldn't  be  safe,  because  maybe  the 
news  might  'a'  worked  along  down  by  this  time.  They 
couldn't  hit  no  project  that  suited  exactly;  so  at  last 
the  duke  said  he  reckoned  he'd  lay  off  and  work  his 
brains  an  hour  or  two  and  see  if  he  couldn't  put  up 
something  on  the  Arkansaw  village;  and  the  king  he 
allowed  he  would  drop  over  to  t'other  village  without 
any  plan,  but  just  trust  in  Providence  to  lead  him  the 
profitable  way — meaning  the  devil,  I  reckon.  We 
had  all  bought  store  clothes  where  we  stopped  last; 
and  now  the  king  put  his'n  on,  and  he  told  me  to  put 
mine  on.  I  done  it,  of  course.  The  king's  duds  was 
all  black,  and  he  did  look  real  swell  and  starchy.  I 
never  knowed  how  clothes  could  change  a  body  be- 
fore. Why,  before,  he  looked  like  the  orneriest  old 
rip  that  ever  was;  but  now,  when  he'd  take  off  his 

218 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


new  white  beaver  and  make  a  bow  and  do  a  smile, 
he  looked  that  grand  and  good  and  pious  that  you'd 
say  he  had  walked  right  out  of  the  ark,  and  maybe 
was  old  Leviticus  himself.  Jim  cleaned  up  the  canoe, 
and  I  got  my  paddle  ready.  There  was  a  big  steam- 
boat laying  at  the  shore  away  up  under  the  point, 
about  three  mile  above  the  town — been  there  a  cou- 
ple of  hours,  taking  on  freight.    Says  the  king: 

"Seem'  how  I'm  dressed,  I  reckon  maybe  I  better 
arrive  down  from  St.  Louis  or  Cincinnati,  or  some 
other  big  place.  Go  for  the  steamboat,  Huckleberry ; 
we'll  come  down  to  the  village  on  her." 

I  didn't  have  to  be  ordered  twice  to  go  and  take  a 
steamboat  ride.  I  fetched  the  shore  a  half  a  mile 
above  the  village,  and  then  went  scooting  along  the 
bluff  bank  in  the  easy  water.  Pretty  soon  we,  come  to 
a  nice  innocent-looking  young  country  jake  setting 
on  a  log  swabbing  the  sweat  off  of  his  face,  for  it  was 
powerful  warm  weather;  and  he  had  a  couple  of  big 
carpet-bags  by  him. 

"Run  her  nose  inshore,"  says  the  king.  I  done 
it.    "Wher'  you  bound  for,  young  man?" 

"For  the  steamboat;  going  to  Orleans." 

"Git  aboard,"  says  the  king.  "Hold  on  a  minute, 
my  servant  '11  he'p  you  with  them  bags.  Jump  out 
and  he'p  the  gentleman,  Adolphus" — meaning  me,  I 
see. 

I  done  so,  and  then  we  all  three  started  on  again. 
The  young  chap  was  mighty  thankful;  said  it  was 
tough  work  toting  his  baggage  such  weather.  He 
asked  the  king  where  he  was  going,  and  the  king  told 
him  he'd  come  down  the  river  and  landed  at  the  other 


MARK  TWAIN 


village  this  morning,  and  now  he  was  going  up  a  few 
mile  to  see  an  old  friend  on  a  farm  up  there.  The 
young  fellow  says : 

"When  I  first  see  you  I  says  to  myself,  'It's  Mr. 
Wilks,  sure,  and  he  come  mighty  near  getting  here  in 
time.'  But  then  I  says  again,  'No,  I  reckon  it  ain't 
him,  or  else  he  wouldn't  be  paddling  up  the  river.' 
You  ain't  him,  are  you?" 

"No,  my  name's  Blodgett— Elexander  Blodgett — 
Reverend  Elexander  Blodgett,  I  s'pose  I  must  say,  as 
I'm  one  o'  the  Lord's  poor  servants.  But  still  I'm 
jist  as  able  to  be  sorry  for  Mr.  Wilks  for  not  arriving 
in  time,  all  the  same,  if  he's  missed  anything  by  it — 
which  I  hope  he  hasn't." 

"Well,  he  don't  miss  any  property  by  it,  because 
he'll  get  that  all  right;  but  he's  missed  seeing  his 
brother  Peter  die — which  he  mayn't  mind,  nobody 
can  tell  as  to  that— but  his  brother  would  'a'  give 
anything  in  this  world  to  see  him  before  he  died; 
never  talked  about  nothing  else  all  these  three  weeks ; 
hadn't  seen  him  since  they  was  boys  together — and 
hadn't  ever  seen  his  brother  William  at  all — that's 
the  deef  and  dumb  one — William  ain't  more  than 
thirty  or  thirty-five.  Peter  and  George  were  the 
only  ones  that  come  out  here;  George  was  the  mar- 
ried brother;  him  and  his  wife  both  died  last  year. 
Harvey  and  William's  the  only  ones  that's  left  now; 
and,  as  I  was  saying,  they  haven't  got  here  in  time." 

"Did  anybody  send  'em  word?" 

"Oh,  yes;  a  month  or  two  ago,  when  Peter  was 
first  took;  because  Peter  said  then  that  he  sorter  felt 
like  he  warn't  going  to  get  well  this  time.  You  see, 

220 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


he  was  pretty  old,  and  George's  g'yirls  was  too  young 
to  be  much  company  for  him,  except  Mary  Jane,  the 
red-headed  one;  and  so  he  was  kinder  lonesome  after 
George  and  his  wife  died,  and  didn't  seem  to  care 
much  to  live.  He  most  desperately  wanted  to  see 
Harvey— and  William,  too,  for  that  matter— because 
he  was  one  of  them  kind  that  can't  bear  to  make  a 
will.  He  left  a  letter  behind  for  Harvey,  and  said 
he'd  told  in  it  where  his  money  was  hid,  and  how  he 
wanted  the  rest  of  the  property  divided  up  so 
George's  g'yirls  would  be  all  right— for  George  didn't 
leave  nothing.  And  that  letter  was  all  they  could  get 
him  to  put  a  pen  to." 

"Why  do  you  reckon  Harvey  don't  come?  Wher' 
does  he  live?" 

"Oh,  he  lives  in  England — Sheffield — preaches 
there — hasn't  ever  been  in  this  country.  He  hasn't 
had  any  too  much  time— and  besides  he  mightn't  'a* 
got  the  letter  at  all,  you  know." 

"Too  bad,  too  bad  he  couldn't  'a'  lived  to  see  his 
brothers,  poor  soul.  You  going  to  Orleans,  you  say?" 

"Yes,  but  that  ain't  only  a  part  of  it.  I'm  going 
in  a  ship,  next  Wednesday,  for  Ryo  Janeero,  where 
my  uncle  lives." 

"It's  a  pretty  long  journey.  But  it  '11  be  lovely;  I 
wisht  I  was  a-going.  Is  Mary  Jane  the  oldest  ?  How 
old  is  the  others?" 

"Mary  Jane's  nineteen,  Susan's  fifteen,  and  Jo- 
anna's  about  fourteen — that's  the  one  that  gives  her- 
self to  good  works  and  has  a  hare-lip." 

"Poor  things !  to  be  left  alone  in  the  cold  world  so." 

4  *  Well,  they  could  be  worse  off.    Old  Peter  had 

221 


MARK  TWAIN 


friends,  and  they  ain't  going  to  let  them  come  to  no 
harm.  There's  Hobson,  the  Babtis'  preacher;  and 
Deacon  Lot  Hovey,  and  Ben  Rucker,  and  Abner 
Shackleford,  and  Levi  Bell,  the  lawyer;  and  Dr.  Rob- 
inson, and  their  wives,  and  the  widow  Bartley,  and — 
well,  there's  a  lot  of  them ;  but  these  are  the  ones  that 
Peter  was  thickest  with,  and  used  to  write  about 
sometimes,  when  he  wrote  home;  so  Harvey  '11  know 
where  to  look  for  friends  when  he  gets  here." 

Well,  the  old  man  went  on  asking  questions  till  he 
just  fairly  emptied  that  young  fellow.  Blamed  if  he 
didn't  inquire  about  everybody  and  everything  in 
that  blessed  town,  and  all  about  the  Wilkses;  and 
about  Peter's  business — which  was  a  tanner;  and 
about  George's — which  was  a  carpenter;  and  about 
Harvey's — which  was  a  dissentering  minister;  and 
so  on,  and  so  on.   Then  he  says : 

"What  did  you  want  to  walk  all  the  way  up  to  the 
steamboat  for?" 

"Because  she's  a  big  Orleans  boat,  and  I  was 
afeard  she  mightn't  stop  there.  When  they're  deep 
they  won't  stop  for  a  hail.  A  Cincinnati  boat  will, 
but  this  is  a  St.  Louis  one." 

"Was  Peter  Wilks  well  off?" 

"Oh,  yes,  pretty  well  off.  He  had  houses  and 
land,  and  it's  reckoned  he  left  three  or  four  thousand 
in  cash  hid  up  som'ers." 

"When  did  you  say  he  died?" 

"I  didn't  say,  but  it  was  last  night." 

"Funeral  to-morrow,  likely?" 

"Yes,  'bout  the  middle  of  the  day." 

"Well,  it's  all  terrible  sad;  but  we've  all  got  to  go, 

222 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


one  time  or  another.  So  what  we  want  to  do  is  to  be 
prepared;  then  we're  all  right." 

"Yes,  sir,  it's  the  best  way.  Ma  used  to  always 
say  that." 

When  we  struck  the  boat  she  was  about  done  load- 
ing, and  pretty  soon  she  got  off.  The  king  never  said 
nothing  about  going  aboard,  so  I  lost  my  ride,  after 
all*  When  the  boat  was  gone  the  king  made  me  pad- 
dle up  another  mile  to  a  lonesome  place,  and  then  he 
got  ashore  and  says: 

"Now  hustle  back,  right  off,  and  fetch  the  duke  up 
here,  and  the  new  carpet-bags.  And  if  he's  gone  over 
to  t'other  side,  go  over  there  and  git  him.  And  tell 
him  to  git  himself  up  regardless.  Shove  along,  now." 

I  see  what  he  was  up  to ;  but  I  never  said  nothing, 
of  course.  When  I  got  back  with  the  duke  we  hid  the 
canoe,  and  then  they  set  down  on  a  log,  and  the  king 
told  him  everything,  just  like  the  young  fellow  had 
said  it — every  last  word  of  it.  And  all  the  time  he 
was  a-doing  it  he  tried  to  talk  like  an  Englishman; 
and  he  done  it  pretty  well,  too,  for  a  slouch.  I  can't 
imitate  him,  and  so  I  ain't  a-going  to  try  to;  but  he 
really  done  it  pretty  good.  Then  he  says : 

"How  are  you  on  the  deef  and  dumb,  Bilgewater?" 

The  duke  said,  leave  him  alone  for  that;  said  he 
had  played  a  deef  and  dumb  person  on  the  histrionic 
boards.   So  then  they  waited  for  a  steamboat. 

About  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  a  couple  of  little 
boats  come  along,  but  they  didn't  come  from  high 
enough  up  the  river ;  but  at  last  there  was  a  big  one, 
and  they  hailed  her.  She  sent  out  her  yawl,  and  we 
went  aboard,  and  she  was  from  Cincinnati;  and  when 

223 


MARK  TWAIN 


they  found  we  only  wanted  to  go  four  or 'five  mite 
they  was  booming  mad,  and  gave  us  a  cussing,  and 
said  they  wouldn't  land  us,  But  the  king  was  ca'm. 
He  says: 

"If  gentlemen  kin  afford  to  pay  a  dollar  a  mile 
apiece  to  be  took  on  and  put  off  in  a  yawl,  a  steam- 
boat kin  afford  to  carry  'em,  can't  it?" 

So  they  softened  down  and  said  it  was  all  right; 
and  when  we  got  to  the  village  they  yawled  us  ashore. 
About  two  dozen  men  flocked,  down  when  they  see  the 
yawl  a-coming,  and  when  the  king  says : 

"Kin  any  of  you  gentlemen  tell  me  wher'  Mr.  Peter 
Wilks  lives?"  they  give  a  glance  at  one  another,  and 
nodded  their  heads,  as  much  as  to  say,  "What 'd  I 
tell  you?"  Then  one  of  them  says,  kind  of  soft  and 
gentle: 

"I'm  sorry,  sir,  but  the  best  we  can  do  is  to  tell 
you  where  he  did  live  yesterday  evening.* ' 

vSudden  as  winking  the  ornery  old  cretur  went  all 
to  smash,  and  fell  up  against  the  man,  and  put  hi? 
chin  on  his  shoulder,  and  cried  down  his  back,  and 
says: 

"Alas,  alas,  our  poor  brother—gone,  and  we  nevej 
got  to  see  him;  oh,  it's  too,  too  hard!" 

Then  he  turns  around,  blubbering,  and  makes  a  lot 
of  idiotic  signs  to  the  duke  on  his  hands,  and  blamed 
if  he  didn't  drop  a  carpet-bag  and  bust  out  a-crying. 
If  they  warn't  the  beatenest  lot,  them  two  frauds, 
that  ever  I  struck. 

Well,  the  men  gathered  around  and  sympathized 
with  them,  and  said  all  sorts  of  kind  things  to  them, 
and  carried  their  carpet-bags  up  the  hill  for  them,  and 

224 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


let  them  lean  on  them  and  cry,  and  told  the  king  all 
about  his  brother's  last  moments,  and  the  king  he  told 
it  all  over  again  on  his  hands  to  the  duke,  and  both  of 
them  took  on  about  that  dead  tanner  like  they'd  lost 
the  twelve  disciples.  Well,  if  ever  I  struck  anything 
like  it,  I'm  a  nigger.  It  was  enough  to  make  a  body 
ashamed  of  the  human  race. 


225 


CHAPTER  XXV 


THE  news  was  all  over  town  in  two  minutes,  and 
you  could  see  the  people  tearing  down  on  the 
run  from  every  which  way,  some  of  them  putting 
on  their  coats  as  they  come.  Pretty  soon  we  was 
in  the  middle  of  a  crowd,  and  the  noise  of  the  tramp- 
ing was  like  a  soldier  march.  The  windows  and 
dooryards  was  full;  and  every  minute  somebody 
would  say,  over  a  fence: 
"Is  it  them  r 

And  somebody  trotting  along  with  the  gang  would 
answer  back  and  say : 
"You  bet  it  is."  " 

When  we  got  to  the  house  the  street  in  front  of 
it  was  packed,  and  the  three  girls  was  standing  in  the 
door.  Mary  Jane  was  red-headed,  but  that  don't 
make  no  difference,  she  was  most  awful  beautiful, 
and  her  face  and  her  eyes  was  all  lit  up  like  glory, 
she  was  so  glad  her  uncles  was  come.  The  king  he 
spread  his  arms,  and  Mary  Jane  she  jumped  for 
them,  and  the  hare-lip  jumped  for  the  duke,  and  there 
they  had  it!  Everybody  most,  leastways  women, 
cried  for  joy  to  see  them  meet  again  at  last  and  have 
such  good  times. 

Then  the  king  he  hunched  the  duke  private — I  see 
him  do  it — and  then  he  looked  around  and  see  the 

226 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


coffin,  over  in  the  corner  on  two  chairs;  so  then  him 
and  the  duke,  with  a  hand  across  each  others  shoul- 
der, and  t'other  hand  to  their  eyes,  walked  slow  and 
solemn  over  there,  everybody  dropping  back  to 
give  them  room,  and  all  the  talk  and  noise  stopping, 
people  saying  '"Sh!"  and  all  the  men  taking  their 
hats  off  and  drooping  their  heads,  so  you  could  V 
heard  a  pin  fall.  And  when  they  got  there  they 
bent  over  and  looked  in  the  coffin,  and  took  one 
sight,  and  then  they  bust  out  a-crying  so  you  could 
'a'  heard  them  to  Orleans,  most;  and  then  they  put 
their  arms  around  each  other's  necks,  and  hung 
their  chins  over  each  other's  shoulders;  and  then  for 
three  minutes,  or  maybe  four,  I  never  see  two  men 
leak  the  way  they  done.  And,  mind  you,  everybody 
was  doing  the  same;  and  the  place  was  that  damp 
I  never  see  anything  like  it.  Then  one  of  them  got 
on  one  side  of  the  coffin,  and  t'other  on  t'other  side, 
and  they  kneeled  down  and  rested  their  foreheads 
on  the  coffin,  and  let  on  to  pray  all  to  themselves. 
Well,  when  it  come  to  that  it  worked  the  crowd  like 
you  never  see  anything  like  it,  and  everybody  broke 
down  and  went  to  sobbing  right  out  loud — the  poor 
girls,  too;  and  every  woman,  nearly,  went  up  to  the 
girls,  without  saying  a  word,  and  kissed  them, 
solemn,  on  the  forehead,  and  then  put  their  hand 
on  their  head,  and  looked  up  towards  the  sky,  with 
the  tears  running  down,  and  then  busted  out  and 
went  off  sobbing  and  swabbing,  and  give  the  next 
woman  a  show.    I  never  see  anything  so  disgusting. 

Well,  by  and  by  the  king  he  gets  up  and  comes 
forward  a  little,  and  works  himself  up  and  slobbers 

227 


MARK  TWAIN 

out  a  speech,  all  full  of  tears  and  flapdoodle,  about 
its  being  a  sore  trial  for  him  and  his  poor  brother 
to  lose  the  diseased,  and  to  miss  seeing  diseased 
alive  after  the  long  journey  of  four  thousand  mile, 
but  it's  a  trial  that's  sweetened  and  sanctified  to  us 
by  this  dear  sympathy  and  these  holy  tears,  and  so 
he  thanks  them  out  of  his  heart  and  out  of  his 
brother's  heart,  because  out  of  their  mouths  they 
can't,  words  being  too  weak  and  cold,  and  all  that 
kind  of  rot  and  slush,  till  it  was  just  sickening;  and 
then  he  blubbers  out  a  pious  goody-goody  Amen,  and 
turns  himself  loose  and  goes  to  crying  fit  to  bust. 

And  the  minute  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth 
somebody  over  in  the  crowd  struck  up  the  doxolojer, 
and  everybody  joined  in  with  all  their  might,  and 
it  just  warmed  you  up  and  made  you  feel  as  good 
as  church  letting  out.  Music  is  a  good  thing;  and 
after  all  that  soul-butter  and  hogwash  I  never  see  it 
freshen  up  things  so,  and  sound  so  honest  and  bully. 

Then  the  king  begins  to  work  his  jaw  again,  and 
says  how  him  and  his  nieces  would  be  glad  if  a  few 
of  the  main  principal  friends  of  the  family  would 
take  supper  here  with  them  this  evening,  and  help 
set  up  with  the  ashes  of  the  diseased;  and  says  if 
his  poor  brother  laying  yonder  could  speak  he  knows 
who  he  would  name,  for  they  was  names  that  was 
very  dear  to  him,  and  mentioned  often  in  his  letters; 
and  so  he  will  name  the  same,  to  wit,  as  follows, 
viz.:— Rev.  Mr.  Hobson,  and  Deacon  Lot  Hovey, 
and  Mr.  Ben  Rucker,  and  Abner  Shackleford,  and 
Levi  Bell,  and  Dr.  Robinson,  and  their  wives9  and 
the  widow  Bartley. 

228 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Rev.  Hobson  and  Dr.  Robinson  was  down  to  the 
end  of  the  town  a-hunting  together— that  is,  I  mean 
the  doctor  was  shipping  a  sick  man  to  t'other  world, 
and  the  preacher  was  pinting  him  right.  Lawyer 
Bell  was  away  up  to  Louisville  on  business.  But  the 
rest  was  on  hand,  and  so  they  all  come  and  shook 
hands  with  the  king  and  thanked  him  and  talked  to 
him;  and  then  they  shook  hands  with  the  duke  and 
didn't  say  nothing,  but  just  kept  a-smiling  and 
bobbing  their  heads  like  a  passel  of  sapheads  whilst 
he  made  all  sorts  of  signs  with  his  hands  and  said 
"Goo-goo-— goo-goo-goo "  all  the  time,  like  a  baby 
that  can't  talk. 

So  the  king  he  blattered  along,  and  managed  to 
inquire  about  pretty  much  everybody  and  dog  in 
town,  by  his  name,  and  mentioned  all  sorts  of  little 
things  that  happened  one  time  or  another  in  the 
town,  or  to  George's  family,  or  to  Peter.  And  he 
always  let  on  that  Peter  wrote  him  the  things;  but 
that  was  a  lie:  he  got  every  blessed  one  of  them  out 
of  that  young  flathead  that  we  canoed  up  to  the 
steamboat. 

Then  Mary  Jane  she  fetched  the  letter  her  father 
left  behind,  and  the  king  he  read  it  out  loud  and 
cried  over  it.  It  give  the  dwelling-house  and  three 
thousand  dollars,  gold,  to  the  girls;  and  it  give  the 
tanyard  (which  was  doing  a  good  business),  along 
with  some  other  houses  and  land  (worth  about  seven 
thousand),  and  three  thousand  dollars  in  gold  to 
Harvey  and  William,  and  told  where  the  six  thou- 
sand cash  was  hid  down  cellar.  So  these  two  frauds 
said  they'd  go  and  fetch  it  up,  and  have  everything 

229 


MARK  TWAIN 

square  and  above-board;  and  told  me  to  come  with 
a  candle.  We  shut  the  cellar  door  behind  us,  and 
when  they  found  the  bag  they  spilt  it  out  on  the 
floor,  and  it  was  a  lovely  sight,  all  them  yaller-boys. 
My,  the  way  the  king's  eyes  did  shine !  He  slaps  the 
duke  on  the  shoulder  and  says: 

"Oh,  this  ain't  bully  nor  noth'n!  Oh,  no,  I  reckon 
not!   Why,  Biljy,  it  beats  the  Nonesuch,  don't  it?" 

The  duke  allowed  it  did.  They  pawed  the  yaller- 
boys,  and  sifted  them  through  their  fingers  and  let 
them  jingle  down  on  the  floor;  and  the  king  says: 

"It  ain't  no  use  talkin';  bein'  brothers  to  a  rich 
dead  man  and  representatives  of  furrin  heirs  that's 
got  left  is  the  line  for  you  and  me,  Bilge.  Thish  yer 
comes  of  trust'n  to  Providence.  It's  the  best  way, 
in  the  long  run.  I've  tried  'em  all,  and  ther'  ain't 
no  better  way." 

Most  everybody  would  'a'  been  satisfied  with  the 
pile,  and  took  it  on  trust;  but  no,  they  must  count 
it.  So  they  counts  it,  and  it  comes  out  four  hundred 
and  fifteen  dollars  short.    Says  the  king: 

"Dern  him,  I  wonder  what  he  done  with  that  four 
hundred  and  fifteen  dollars?" 

They  worried  over  that  awhile,  and  ransacked  all 
around  for  it.    Then  the  duke  says : 

"Well,  he  was  a  pretty  sick  man,  and  likely  he 
made  a  mistake — I  reckon  that's  the  way  of  it. 
The  best  way's  to  let  it  go,  and  keep  still  about  it. 
We  can  spare  it." 

"Oh,  shucks,  yes,  we  can  spare  it.  I  don't  k'yer 
noth'n  'bout  that — it's  the  count  I'm  thinkin'  about. 
We  want  to  be  awful  square  and  open  and  above- 

230 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

board  here,  you  know.  We  want  to  lug  this  h'yer 
money  up-stairs  and  count  it  before  everybody — then 
ther'  ain't  noth'n  suspicious.  But  when  the  dead 
man  says  ther's  six  thous'n  dollars,  you  know,  we 
don't  want  to — " 

"Hold  on,"  says  the  duke.  "Le's  make  up  the 
defhsit,"  and  he  begun  to  haul  out  yaller-boys  out 
of  his  pocket. 

"It's  a  most  amaz'n'  good  idea,  duke— you  have 
got  a  rattlin'  clever  head  on  you,'*  says  the  king. 
"Blest  if  the  old  Nonesuch  ain't  a  heppin'  us  out 
ag'in,"  and  he  begun  to  haul  out  yaller-iackets  and 
stack  them  up. 

It  most  busted  them,  but  they  made  up  the  six 
thousand  clean  and  clear. 

"Say,"  says  the  duke,  "I  got  another  idea.'  Le's 
go  up-stairs  and  count  this  money,  and  then  take 
and  give  it  to  the  girls" 

"Good  land,  duke,  lemme  hug  you!  It's  the 
most  dazzling  idea  'at  ever  a  man  struck.  You  have 
cert'nly  got  the  most  astonishin'  head  I  ever  see. 
Oh,  this  is  the  boss  dodge,  ther*  ain't  no  mistake 
'bout  it.  Let  'em  fetch  along  their  suspicions  now 
if  they  want  to — this  11  lay  'em  out." 

When  we  got  up-stairs  everybody  gethered  around 
the  table,  and  the  king  he  counted  it  and  stacked 
it  up,  three  hundred  dollars  in  a  pile — twenty  elegant 
little  pileSo  Everybody  looked  hungry  at  it,  and 
licked  their  chops.  Then  they  raked  it  into  the 
bag  again,  and  I  see  the  king  begin  to  swell  himself 
tip  for  another  speech.    He  says: 

"Friends  all,  my  poor  brother  that  lays  yonder 

231 


MARK  TWAIN 


has  done  generous  by  them  that's  left  behind  in  the 
vale  of  sorrers.  He  has  done  generous  by  these  yer 
poor  little  lambs  that  he  loved  and  sheltered,  and 
that's  left  fatherless  and  motherless.  Yes,  and  we 
that  knowed  him  knows  that  he  would  'a'  done  more 
generous  by  'em  if  he  hadn't  ben  afeard  o'  woundin' 
his  dear  William  and  me.  Now,  wouldn't  he?  Trier' 
ain't  no  question  'bout  it  in  my  mind.  Well,  then, 
what  kind  o'  brothers  would  it  be  that  'd  stand  in 
his  way  at  sech  a  time?  And  what  kind  o'  uncles 
would  it  be  that 'd  rob— yes,  rob — sech  poor  sweet 
lambs  as  these  'at  he  loved  so  at  sech  a  time?  If  I 
know  William— and  I  think  I  do— he— well,  I'll  jest 
ask  him,"  He  turns  around  and  begins  to  make  a 
lot  of  signs  to  the  duke  with  his  hands,  and  the 
duke  he  looks  at  him  stupid  and  leather-headed 
awhile °  then  all  of  a  sudden  he  seems  to  catch  his 
meaning,  and  jumps  for  the  king,  goo-gooing  with 
all  his  might  for  joy,  and  hugs  him  about  fifteen 
times  before  he  lets  up.  Then  the  king  says,  44 1 
knowed  it;  I  reckon  that  '11  convince  anybody  the 
way  he  feels  about  it.  Here,  Mary  Jane,  Susan, 
joanner,  take  the  money— take  it  all.  It's  the  gift 
of  him  that  lays  yonder,  cold  but  joyful." 

Mary  Jane  she  went  for  him,  Susan  and  the  hare-lip 
went  for  the  duke,  and  then  such  another  hugging  and 
kissing  I  never  see  yet.  And  everybody  crowded  up 
with  the  tears  in  their  eyes,  and  most  shook  the  hands 
off  of  them  frauds,  saying  all  the  time: 

"You  dear  good  souls! — how  lovely! — how  could 
you!" 

Well,  then,  pretty  soon  all  hands  got  to  talking 

212 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

about  the  diseased  again,  and  how  good  he  was,  and 
what  a  loss  he  was,  and  all  that ;  and  before  long  a  big 
iron- jawed  man  worked  himself  in  there  from  outside, 
and  stood  a-listening  and  looking,  and  not  saying  any- 
thing; and  nobody  saying  anything  to  him  either, 
because  the  king  was  talking  and  they  was  all  busy 
listening.  The  king  was  saying-— in  the  middle  of 
something  he'd  started  in  on— 

" — they  bein'  par  tickler  friends  o*  the  diseased. 
That's  why  they're  invited  here  this  evenin' ;  but  to- 
morrow we  want  all  to  come — everybody;  for  he 
respected  everybody,  he  liked  everybody,  and  so  it's 
fltten  that  his  funeral  orgies  sh'd  be  public." 

And  so  he  went  a-mooning  on  and  on,  liking  to  hear 
himself  talk,  and  every  little  while  he  fetched  in  his 
funeral  orgies  again,  till  the  duke  he  couldn't  stand  it 
no  more;  so  he  writes  on  a  little  scrap  of  paper, 
"Obsequies,  you  old  fool,"  and  folds  it  up,  and  goes 
to  goo-gooing  and  reaching  it  over  people's  heads  to 
him.  The  king  he  reads  it  and  puts  it  in  his  pocket, 
and  says: 

"Poor  William,  afflicted  as  he  is,  his  heart's  aluz 
right.  Asks  me  to  invite  everybody  to  come  to  the 
funeral — wants  me  to  make  'em  all  welcome.  But  he 
needn't  'a'  worried— it  was  jest  what  I  was  at." 

Then  he  weaves  along  again,  prefectly  ca'm,  and 
goes  to  dropping  in  his  funeral  orgies  again  every  now 
and  then,  just  like  he  done  before.  And  when  he 
done  it  the  third  time  he  says: 

"I  say  orgies,  not  because  it's  the  common  term, 
because  it  ain't — obsequies  bein'  the  common  term — ■ 
but  because  orgies  is  the  right  term.    Obsequies  ain't 

233 


MARK  TWAIN 


used  in  England  no  more  now — it's  gone  out.  We 
say  orgies  now  in  England.  Orgies  is  better,  because 
it  means  the  thing  you're  after  more  exact.  It's  a 
word  that's  made  up  out'n  the  Greek  or  go,  outside, 
open,  abroad ;  and  the  Hebrew  jeesum,  to  plant,  cover 
up;  hence  inter.  So,  you  see,  funeral  orgies  is  an 
open  er  public  funeral." 

He  was  the  worst  I  ever  struck.  Well,  the  iron- 
jawed  man  he  laughed  right  in  his  face.  Everybody 
was  shocked.  Everybody  says,  "Why,  doctor!'1  and 
Abner  Shackleford  says: 

"Why,  Robinson,  hain't  you  heard  the  news?  This 
is  Harvey  Wilks." 

The  king  he  smiled  eager,  and  shoved  out  his 
flapper,  and  says : 

"Is  it  my  poor  brother's  dear  good  friend  and  phy- 
sician?   I — " 

"Keep  your  hands  off  me!"  says  the  doctor. 
"You  talk  like  an  Englishman,  don't  you?  It's  the 
worst  imitation  I  ever  heard.  You  Peter  Wilks's 
brother!    You're  a  fraud,  that's  what  you  are!" 

Well,  how  they  all  took  on !  They  crowded  around 
the  doctor  and  tried  to  quiet  him  down,  and  tried  to 
explain  to  him  and  tell  him  how  Harvey's  showed  in 
forty  ways  that  he  was  Harvey,  and  knowed  every- 
body by  name,  and  the  names  of  the  very  dogs,  and 
begged  and  begged  him  not  to  hurt  Harvey's  feelings 
and  the  poor  girls'  feelings,  and  all  that.  But  it 
warn't  no  use;  he  stormed  right  along,  and  said  any 
man  that  pretended  to  be  an  Englishman  and 
couldn't  imitate  the  lingo  no  better  than  what  he 
did  was  a  fraud  and  a  liar.    The  poor  girls  was  hang- 

234 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


ing  to  the  king  and  crying;  and  all  of  a  sudden  the 
doctor  ups  and  turns  on  them.    He  says: 

"I  was  your  father's  friend,  and  I'm  your  friend; 
and  I  warn  you  as  sl  friend,  and  an  honest  one  that 
wants  to  protect  you  and  keep  you  out  of  harm  and 
trouble,  to  turn  your  backs  on  that  scoundrel  and 
have  nothing  to  do  with  him,  the  ignorant  tramp, 
with  his  idiotic  Greek  and  Hebrew,  as  he  calls  it. 
He  is  the  thinnest  kind  of  an  impostor — has  come 
here  with  a  lot  of  empty  names  and  facts  which  he 
picked  up  somewheres;  and  you  take  them  for 
proofs,  and  are  helped  to  fool  yourselves  by  these 
foolish  friends  here,  who  ought  to  know  better. 
Mary  Jane  Wilks,  you  know  me  for  your  friend,  and 
for  your  unselfish  friend,  too.  Now  listen  to  me; 
turn  this  pitiful  rascal  out — I  beg  you  to  do  it. 
Will  you?" 

Mary  Jane  straightened  herself  up,  and  my,  but 
she  was  handsome!    She  says: 

"Here  is  my  answer."  She  hove  up  the  bag  of 
money  and  put  it  in  the  king's  hands,  and  says, 
"Take  this  six  thousand  dollars,  and  invest  for  me 
and  my  sisters  any  way  you  want  to,  and  don't  give 
us  no  receipt  for  it." 

Then  she  put  her  arm  around  the  king  on  one  side, 
and  Susan  and  the  hare-lip  done  the  same  on  the 
other.  Everybody  clapped  their  hands  and  stomped 
on  the  floor  like  a  perfect  storm,  whilst  the  king 
held  up  his  head  and  smiled  proud.  The  doctor 
says: 

"All  right;  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  matter.  But  I 
warn  you  all  that  a  time's  coming  when  you're  going 

23s 


MARK  TWAIN 


to  feel  sick  whenever  you  think  of  this  day."  And 
away  he  went. 

"All  right,  doctor,"  says  the  king,  kinder  mocking 
him ;  "well  try  and  get  'em  to  send  for  you " ;  which 
made  them  all  laugh,  and  they  said  it  was  a  prime 
good  hit. 


236 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


ELL,  when  they  was  all  gone  the  king  he  asks 


V  V  Mary  Jane  how  they  was  off  for  spare  rooms, 
and  she  said  she  had  one  spare  room,  which  would  do 
for  Uncle  William,  and  she'd  give  her  own  room  to 
Uncle  Harvey,  which  was  a  little  bigger,  and  she 
vvould  turn  into  the  room  with  her  sisters  and  sleep 
on  a  cot;  and  up  garret  was  a  little  cubby,  with  a 
pallet  in  it.  The  king  said  the  cubby  would  do  for 
his  valley—meaning  me. 

So  Mary  Jane  took  us  up,  and  she  showed  them 
their  rooms,  which  was  plain  but  nice.  She  said  she'd 
have  her  frocks  and  a  lot  of  other  traps  took  out  of 
her  room  if  they  was  in  Uncle  Harvey's  way,  but  he 
said  they  warn't.  The  frocks  was  hung  along  the 
wall,  and  before  them  was  a  curtain  made  out  of 
calico  that  hung  down  to  the  floor.  There  was  an 
old  hair  trunk  in  one  corner,  and  a  guitar-box  in 
another,  and  all  sorts  of  little  knickknacks  and  jim- 
cracks  around,  like  girls  brisken  up  a  room  with. 
The  king  said  it  was  all  the  more  homely  and  more 
pleasanter  for  these  fixings,  and  so  don't  disturb 
them.  The  duke's  room  was  pretty  small,  but 
plenty  good  enough,  and  so  was  my  cubby. 

That  night  they  had  a  big  supper,  and  all  them  men 
and  women  was  there,  and  I  stood  behind  the  king 


23.7 


MARK  TWAIN 


and  the  duke's  chairs  and  waited  on  them,  and  the 
niggers  waited  on  the  rest.  Mary  Jane  she  set  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  with  Susan  alongside  of  her,  and 
said  how  bad  the  biscuits  was,  and  how  mean  the  pre- 
serves was,  and  how  ornery  and  tough  the  fried  chick- 
ens was — and  all  that  kind  of  rot,  the  way  women  al- 
ways do  for  to  force  out  compliments;  and  the  people 
all  knowed  everything  was  tiptop,  and  said  so — said 
"How  do  you  get  biscuits  to  brown  so  nice?"  and 
"Where,  for  the  land's  sake,  did  you  get  these  amaz'n 
pickles?"  and  all  that  kind  of  humbug  talky-talk,  just 
the  way  people  always  does  at  a  supper,  you  know. 

And  when  it  was  all  done  me  and  the  hare-lip  had 
supper  in  the  kitchen  off  of  the  leavings,  whilst  the 
others  was  helping  the  niggers  clean  up  the  things. 
The  hare-lip  she  got  to  pumping  me  about  England, 
and  blest  if  I  didn't  think  the  ice  was  getting  mighty 
thin  sometimes.   She  says: 

"Did  you  ever  see  the  king?" 

"Who?  William  Fourth?  Well,  I  bet  I  have— he 
goes  to  our  church."  I  knowed  he  was  dead  years 
ago,  but  I  never  let  on.  So  when  I  says  he  goes  to 
our  church,  she  says : 

"What— regular?" 

"Yes — regular.  His  pew's  right  over  opposite 
ourn — on  t'other  side  the  pulpit." 

"I  thought  he  lived  in  London?" 

"Well,  he  does.   Where  would  he  live?" 

"But  I  thought  you  lived  in  Sheffield?" 

I  see  I  was  up  a  stump.  I  had  to  let  on  to  get 
choked  with  a  chicken-bone,  so  as  to  get  time  tc 
think  how  to  get  down  again.   Then  I  says: 

238 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"I  mean  he  goes  to  our  church  regular  when  he's  in 
Sheffield.  That's  only  in  the  summer-time,  when  he 
comes  there  to  take  the  sea  baths." 

"Why,  how  you  talk— Sheffield  ain't  on  the  sea" 

"Well,  who  said  it  was?" 

"Why,  you  did." 

"I  didn't,  nuther." 

"You  did!" 

"I  didn't." 

"You  did." 

"I  never  said  nothing  of  the  kind." 
"Well,  what  did  you  say,  then?" 
"Said  he  come  to  take  the  sea  baths — that's  what  I 
said." 

"Well,  then,  how's  he  going  to  take  the  sea  baths 
if  it  ain't  on  the  sea?" 

' '  Looky  here, ' '  I  says ;  * '  did  you  ever  see  any  Con- 
gress-water ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  did  you  have  to  go  to  Congress  to  get  it?" 
"Why,  no." 

"Well,  neither  does  William  Fourth  have  to  go  to 
the  sea  to  get  a  sea  bath." 

"How  does  he  get  it,  then?" 

"Gets  it  the  way  people  down  here  gets  Congress- 
water — in  barrels.  There  in  the  palace  at  Sheffield 
they've  got  furnaces,  and  he  wants  his  water  hot. 
They  can't  bile  that  amount  of  water  away  off  there 
at  the  sea.  They  haven't  got  no  conveniences  for 
it." 

"Oh,  I  see,  now.  You  might  'a'  said  that  in  the 
first  place  and  saved  time." 

239 


MARK  TWAIN 

When  she  said  that  I  see  I  was  out  of  the  woods 
again,  and  so  I  was  comfortable  and  glad.  Next,  she 

says: 

"Do  you  go  to  church,  too?" 
"Yes— regular." 
"Where  do  you  set?" 
"Why,  in  our  pew." 
"Whose  pew?" 

"Why,  ourn — your  Uncle  Harvey's." 

"His'n?  What  does  he  want  with  a  pew?" 

"Wants  it  to  set  in.  What  did  you  reckon  he 
wanted  with  it?" 

"Why,  I  thought  he'd  be  in  the  pulpit." 

Rot  him,  I  forgot  he  was  a  preacher.  I  see  I  was 
up  a  stump  again,  so  I  played  another  chicken-bone 
and  got  another  think.   Then  I  says : 

"Blame  it,  do  you  suppose  there  ain't  but  one 
preacher  to  a  church?" 

"Why,  what  do  they  want  with  more?" 

"What!— to  preach  before  a  king?  I  never  did 
see  such  a  girl  as  you.  They  don't  have  no  less  than 
seventeen." 

"Seventeen!  My  land!  Why,  I  wouldn't  set.  out 
such  a  string  as  that,  not  if  I  never  got  to  glory.  It 
must  take  'em  a  week." 

"Shucks,  they  don't  all  of  'em  preach  the  same 
day — only  one  of  'em." 

"Well,  then,  what  does  the  rest  of  'em  do?" 

"Oh,  nothing  much.  Loll  around,  pass  the  plate 
— and  one  thing  or  another.  But  mainly  they  don't 
do  nothing." 

"Well,  then,  what  are  they  for?" 

240 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Why,  they're  for  style.  Don't  you  know  noth- 
ing?" 

"Well,  I  don't  want  to  know  no  such  foolishness  as 
that.  How  is  servants  treated  in  England?  Do  they 
treat  'em  better  'n  we  treat  our  niggers?" 

"No!  A  servant  ain't  nobody  there.  They  treat 
them  worse  than  dogs." 

"Don't  they  give  'em  holidays,  the  way  we  do, 
Christmas  and  New  Year's  week,  and  Fourth  of 
July?" 

"  Oh,  just  listen !  A  body  could  tell  you  hain't  ever 
been  to  England  by  that.  Why,  Hare-1 — why,  Jo- 
anna, they  never  see  a  holiday  from  year's  end  to 
year's  end;  never  go  to  the  circus,  nor  theater,  nor 
nigger  shows,  nor  nowheres." 

"Nor  church?" 

"Nor  church." 

"But  you  always  went  to  church." 

Well,  I  was  gone  up  again.  I  forgot  I  was  the  old 
man's  servant.  But  next  minute  I  whirled  in  on  a 
kind  of  an  explanation  how  a  valley  was  different 
from  a  common  servant,  and  had  to  go  to  church 
whether  he  wanted  to  or  not,  and  set  with  the  family, 
on  account  of  its  being  the  law.  But  I  didn't  do  it 
pretty  good,  and  when  I  got  done  I  see  she  warn't 
satisfied.   She  says: 

"Honest  injun,  now,  hain't  you  been  telling  me  a 
lot  of  lies?" 

"Honest  injun,"  says  I. 

"None  of  it  at  all?" 

"None  of  it  at  all.   Not  a  lie  in  it,"  says  I. 
"Lay  your  hand  on  this  book  and  say  it." 

241 


MARK  TWAIN 


I  see  it  warn't  nothing  but  a  dictionary,  so  I  laid  my 
hand  on  it  and  said  it.  So  then  she  looked  a  little 
better  satisfied,  and  says-: 

"Well,  then,  111  believe  some  of  it;  but  I  hope  to 
gracious  if  I'll  believe  the  rest." 

"What  is  it  you  won't  believe,  Jo?"  says  Mary 
Jane,  stepping  in  with  Susan  behind  her.  "It  ain't 
right  nor  kind  for  you  to  talk  so*  to  him,  and  him  a 
stranger  and  so  far  from  his  people.  How  would  you 
like  to  be  treated  so?" 

"That's  always  your  way,  Maim — always  sailing 
in  to  help  somebody  before  they're  hurt.  I  hain't 
done  nothing  to  him.  He's  told  some  stretchers,  I 
reckon,  and  I  said  I  wouldn't  swallow  it  all;  and 
'that's  every  bit  and  grain  I  did  say.  I  reckon  he  can 
stand  a  little  thing  like  that,  can't  he?" 

"I  don't  care  whether  'twas  little  or  whether  'twas 
big;  he's  here  in  our  house  and  a  stranger,  and  it 
wasn't  good  of  you  to  say  it.  If  you  was  in  his  place 
it  would  make  you  feel  ashamed ;  and  so  you  oughtn't 
to  say  a  thing  to  another  person  that  will  make  them 
feel  ashamed." 

"Why,  Maim,  he  said—" 

"It  don't  make  no  difference  what  he  said — that 
ain't  the  thing.  The  thing  is  for  you  to  treat  him 
kind,  and  not  be  saying  things  to  make  him  remember 
he  ain't  in  his  own  country  and  amongst  his  own 
folks."  . 

I  says  to  myself,  this  is  a  girl  that  I'm  letting  that 
old  reptile  rob  her  of  her  money ! 

Then  Susan  she  waltzed  in;  and  if  you'll  believe 
me,  she  did  give  Hare-lip  hark  from  the  tomb! 

242 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Says  I  to  myself,  and  this  is  another  one  that  I'm 
letting  him  rob  her  of  her  money! 

Then  Mary  Jane  she  took  another  inning,  and  went 
in  sweet  and  lovely  again — which  was  her  way ;  but 
when  she  got  done  there  warn't  hardly  anything  left 
o'  poor  Hare-lip.   So  she  hollered. 

"All  right,  then/'  says  the  other  girls;  "you  just 
ask  his  pardon." 

She  done  it,  too;  and  she  done  it  beautiful.  She 
done  it  so  beautiful  it  was  good  to  hear ;  and  I  wished 
I  could  tell  her  a  thousand  lies,  so  she  could  do  it 
again. 

I  says  to  myself,  this  is  another  one  that  I'm  letting 
,  him  rob  her  of  her  money.  And  when  she  got  through 
they  all  jest  laid  theirselves  out  to  make  me  feel  at 
home  and  know  I  was  amongst  friends.  I  felt  so 
ornery  and  low  down  and  mean  that  I  says  to  myself, 
my  mind's  made  up;  I'll  hive  that  money  for  them 
or  bust. 

So  then  I  lit  out — for  bed,  I  said,  meaning  some 
time  or  another.  When  I  got  by  myself  I  went  to 
thinking  the  thing  over.  I  says  to  myself,  shall  I  go 
to  that  doctor,  private,  and  blow  on  these  frauds? 
No — that  won't  do.  He  might  tell  who  told  him; 
then  the  king  and  the  duke  would  make  it  warm  for 
me.  Shall  I  go,  private,  and  tell  Mary  Jane?  No — 
I  dasn't  do  it.  Her  face  would  give  them  a  hint, 
sure;  they've  got  the  money,  and  they'd  slide  right 
out  and  get  away  with  it.  If  she  was  to  fetch  in  help 
I'd  get  mixed  up  in  the  business  before  it  was  done 
with,  I  judge.  No;  there  ain't  no  good  way  but  one. 
I  got  to  steal  that  money,  somehow;  and  I  got  to 

243 


MARK  TWAIN 


steal  it  some  way  that  they  won't  suspicion  that  I 
done  it.  They've  got  a  good  thing  here,  and  they 
ain't  a-going  to  leave  till  they've  played  this  family 
and  this  town  for  all  they're  worth,  so  I'll  find  a 
chance  time  enough.  I'll  steal  it  and  hide  it;  and 
by  and  by,  when  I'm  away  down  the  river,  I'll  write 
a  letter  and  tell  Mary  Jane  where  it's  hid.  But  I 
better  hive  it  to-night  if  I  can,  because  the  doctor 
maybe  hasn't  let  up  as  much  as  he  lets  on  he  has; 
he  might  scare  them  out  of  here  yet. 

So,  thinks  I,  I'll  go  and  search  them  rooms.  Up- 
stairs the  hall  was  dark,  but  I  found  the  duke's  room, 
and  started  to  paw  around  it  with  my  hands;  but  I 
recollected  it  wouldn't  be  much  like  the  king  to  let 
'anybody  else  take  care  of  that  money  but  his  own  self; 
so  then  I  went  to  his  room  and  begun  to  paw  around 
there.  But  I  see  I  couldn't  do  nothing  without  a 
candle,  and  I  dasn't  light  one,  of  course.  So  I  judged 
I'd  got  to  do  the  other  thing — lay  for  them  and  eaves- 
drop. About  that  time  I  hears  their  footsteps 
coming,  and  was  going  to  skip  under  the  bed;  I 
reached  for  it,  but  it  wasn't  where  I  thought  it  would 
be;  but  I  touched  the  curtain  that  hid  Mary  Jane's 
frocks,  so  I  jumped  in  behind  that  and  snuggled  in 
amongst  the  gowns,  and  stood  there  perfectly  still 

They  come  in  and  shut  the  door;  and  the  first 
thing  the  duke  done  was  to  get  down  and  look  under 
the  bed.  Then  I  was  glad  I  hadn't  found  the  bed 
when  I  wanted  it.  And  yet,  you  know,  it's  kind  of 
natural  to  hide  under  the  bed  when  you  are  up  to 
anything  private.  They  sets  down  then,  and  the 
king  says:* 

244 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Well,  what  is  it?  And  cut  it  middlin'  short,  be- 
cause it's  better  for  us  to  be  down  there  a-whoopin' 
up  the  mournin'  than  up  here  givin'  'em  a  chance  to 
talk  us  over." 

"Well,  this  is  it,  Capet.  I  ain't  easy;  I  ain't  com- 
fortable. That  doctor  lays  on  my  mind.  I  wanted  to 
know  your  plans.  I've  got  a  notion,  and  I  think  it's 
a  sound  one." 

6 'What  is  it,  duke?" 

"That  we  better  glide  out  of  this  before  three  in 
the  morning,  and  clip  it  down  the  river  with  what 
we've  got.  Specially,  seeing  we  got  it  so  easy — given 
back  to  us,  flung  at  our  heads,  as  you  may  say,  when 
of  course  we  allowed  to  have  to  steal  it  back.  I'm  for 
knocking  off  and  lighting  out*" 

That  made  me  feel  pretty  bad.  About  an  hour  or 
two  ago  it  would  'a'  been  a  little  different,  but  now  it 
made  me  feel  bad  and  disappointed.  The  king  rips 
out  and  says : 

"Whati  And  not  sell  out  the  rest  o'  the  property? 
March  off  like  a  passel  of  fools  and  leave  eight  or  nine 
thous'n'  dollars'  worth  o'  property  layin'  around  jest 
sufferin'  to  be  scooped  in? — and  all  good,  salable 
stuff,  too," 

The  duke  he  grumbled;  said  the  bag  of  gold  was 
enough,  and  he  didn't  want  to  go  no  deeper — didn't 
want  to  rob  a  lot  of  orphans  of  everything  they  had. 

"Why,  how  you  talk!"  says  the  king.  "We 
sha'n't  rob  'em  of  nothing  at  all  but  jest  this  money. 
The  people  that  buys  the  property  is  the  suff'rers; 
because  as  soon 's  it's  found  out  'at  we  didn't  own 
It—which  won't  be  long  after  we've  slid — the  sale 

24.5 


MARK  TWAIN 


won't  be  valid,  and  it  '11  all  go  back  to  the  estate, 
These  yer  orphans  '11  git  their  house  back  ag'in,  and 
that's  enough  for  them;  they're  young  and  spry,  and 
k'n  easy  earn  a  livin\  They  ain't  a-goin'  to  suffer. 
Why,  jest  think — there's  thous'n's  and  thous'n's  that 
ain't  nigh  so  well  off*  Bless  you,  they  ain't  got  noth'n' 
to  complain  of." 

Well,  the  king  he  talked  him  blind;  so  at  last  he 
give  in,  and  said  all  right,  but  said  he  believed  it 
was  blamed  foolishness  to  stay,  and  that  doctor 
hanging  over  them.    But  the  king  says: 

"Cuss  the  doctor!  What  do  we  k'yer  for  him? 
Hain't  we  got  all  the  fools  in  town  on  our  side? 
And  ain't  that  a  big  enough  majority  in  any  town?" 

So  they  got  ready  to  go  down-stairs  again.  The 
duke  says: 

"X  don't  think  we  put  that  money  in  a  good  place." 
That  cheered  me  up.    I'd  begun  to  think  I  warn't 
,  going  to  get  a  hint  of  no  kind  to  help  me.   The  king 
says: 
-Why?" 

"Because  Mary  Jane  '11  be  in  mourning  from  this 
out;  and  first  you  know  the  nigger  that  does  up  the 
rooms  will  get  an  order  to  box  these  duds  up  and 
put  'em  away;  and  do  you  reckon  a  nigger  can  run 
across  money  and  not  borrow  some  of  it?" 

"Your  head's  level  ag'in,  duke,"  says  the  king;  and 
he  comes  a-fumbling  under  the  curtain  two  or  three 
foot  from  where  I  was,  I  stuck  tight  to  the  wall 
and  kept  mighty  still,  though  quivery;  and  I  won- 
dered what  them  fellows  would  say  to  me  if  they 
eatched  me;  and  I  tried  to  think  what  I'd  better  do 

246 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


if  they  did  catch  me.  But  the  king  he  got  the  bag 
before  I  could  think  more  than  about  a  half  a 
thought,  and  he  never  suspicioned  I  was  around. 
They  took  and  shoved  the  bag  through  a  rip  in  the 
straw  tick  that  was  under  the  feather-bed,  and 
crammed  it  in  a  foot  or  two  amongst  the  straw  and 
said  it  was  all  right  now,  because  a  nigger  only  makes 
up  the  feather-bed,  and  don't  turn  over  the  straw 
tick  only  about  twice  a  year,  and  so  it  warn't  in  no 
danger  of  getting  stole  now. 

But  I  knowed  better.  I  had  it  out  of  there  before 
they  was  half-way  down-stairs.  I  groped  along  up 
to  my  cubby,  and  hid  it  there  till  I  could  get  a 
chance  to  do  better.  I  judged  I  better  hide  it  out- 
side of  the  house  somewheres,  because  if  they  missed „ 
it  they  would  give  the  house  a  good  ransacking:  I 
knowed  that  very  well.  Then  I  turned  in,  with 
my  clothes  all  on;  but  I  couldn't  'a' gone  to  sleep  if 
I'd  'a'  wanted  to,  I  was  in  such  a  sweat  to  get  through 
with  the  business.  By  and  by  I  heard  the  king  and 
the  duke  come  up;  so  I  rolled  off  my  pallet  and  laid 
with  my  chin  at  the  top  of  my  ladder,  and  waited 
to  see  if  anything  was  going  to  happen.  But  nothing 
did. 

So  I  held  on  till  all  the  late  sounds  had  quit  and 
the  early  ones  hadn't  begun  yet;  and  then  I  slipped 
down  the  ladder 


247 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


I CREPT  to  their  doors  and  listened*  they  was 
snoring.  So  I  tiptoed  along,  and  got  down- 
stairs all  right.  There  warn't  a  sound  anywheres^ 
I  peeped  through  a  crack  of  the  dining-room  door, 
and  see  the  men  that  was  watching  the  corpse  all 
sound  asleep  on  their  chairs.  The  door  was  open 
into  the  parlor,  where  the  corpse  was  laying,  and 
there  was  a  candle  in  both  rooms.  I  passed  along, 
and  the  parlor  door  was  open;  but  I  see  there  warn't 
nobody  in  there  but  the  remainders  of  Peter;  so  I 
shoved  on  by;  but  the  front  door  was  locked,  and 
the  key  wasn't  there.  Just  then  I  heard  somebody 
coming  down  the  stairs,  back  behind  me.  I  run  in 
the  parlor  and  took  a  swift  look  around,  and  the 
only  place  I  see  to  hide  the  bag  was  in  the  coffin. 
The  lid  was  shoved  along  about  a  foot,  showing  the 
dead  man's  face  down  in  there,  with  a  wet  cloth 
over  it,  and  his  shroud  on.  I  tucked  the  money- 
bag in  under  the  lid,  just  down  beyond  where  his 
hands  was  crossed,  which  made  me  creep,  they  was 
so  cold,  and  then  I  run  back  across  the  room  and  in 
behind  the  door. 

The  person  coming  was  Mary  Jane.  She  went  to 
the  coffin,  very  soft,  and  kneeled  down  and  looked 
in;  then  she  put  up  her  handkerchief,  and  I  see  she 

248 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

begun  to  cry,  though  I  couldn't  hear  her,  and  her 
back  was  to  me.  I  slid  out,  and  as  I  passed  the 
dining-room  I  thought  I'd  make  sure  them  watchers 
hadn't  seen  me;  so  I  looked  through  the  crack,  and 
everything  was  all  right.    They  hadn't  stirred. 

I  slipped  up  to  bed,  feeling  ruther  blue,  on  accounts 
of  the  thing  playing  out  that  way  after  I  had  took 
so  much  trouble  and  run  so  much  resk  about  it. 
Says  I,  if  it  could  stay  where  it  is,  all  right ;  because 
when  we  get  down  the  river  a  hundred  mile  or  two 
I  could  write  back  to  Mary  Jane,  and  she  could  dig 
him  up  again  and  get  it;  but  that  ain't  the  thing 
that's  going  to  happen;  the  thing  that's  going  to 
happen  is,  the  money'll  be  found  when  they  come 
to  screw  on  the  lid.  Then  the  king  '11  get  it  again, 
and  it  11  be  a  long  day  before  he  gives  anybody 
another  chance  to  smouch  it  from  him.  Of  course 
I  wanted  to  slide  down  and  get  it  out  of  there,  but  I 
dasn't  try  it.  Every  minute  it  was  getting  earlier 
now,  and  pretty  soon  some  of  them  watchers  would 
begin  to  stir,  and  I  might  get  catched— catched 
with  six  thousand  dollars  in  my  hands  that  nobody 
hadn't  hired  me  to  take  care  of.  I  don't  wish  to  be 
mixed  up  in  no  such  business  as  that,  I  says  to 
myself. 

When  I  got  down-stairs  in  the  morning  the  parlor 
was  shut  up,  and  the  watchers  was  gone.  There 
warn't  nobody  around  but  the  family  and  the  widow 
Bartley  and  our  tribe.  I  watched  their  faces  to  see 
if  anything  had  been  happening,  but  I  couldn't  tell. 

Towards  the  middle  of  the  day  the  undertaker 
some  with  his  man  and  they  set  the  coffin  in  the 

249 


MARK  TWAIN 


middle  of  the  room  on  a  couple  of  chairs,  and  then 
set  all  our  chairs  in  rows,  and  borrowed  more  from 
the  neighbors  till  the  hall  and  the  parlor  and  the 
dining-room  was  full.  I  see  the  coffin  lid  was  the 
way  it  was  before,  but  I  dasn't  go  to  look  in  under 
it,  with  folks  around. 

Then  the  people  begun  to  flock  in,  and  the  beats 
and  the  girls  took  seats  in  the  front  row  at  the  head 
of  the  coffin,  and  for  a  half  an  hour  the  people  filed 
around  slow,  in  single  rank,  and  looked  down  at  the 
dead  man's  face  a  minute,  and  some  dropped  in  a 
tear,  and  it  was  all  very  still  and  solemn,  only  the 
girls  and  the  beats  holding  handkerchiefs  to  their 
eyes  and  keeping  their  heads  bent,  and  sobbing  a 
little.  There  warn't  no  other  sound  but  the  scraping 
of  the  feet  on  the  floor  and  blowing  noses — because 
people  always  blows  them  more  at  a  funeral  than 
they  do  at  other  places  except  church. 

When  the  place  was  packed  full  the  undertaker  he 
slid  around  in  his  black  gloves  with  his  softy  soother- 
ing ways,  putting  on  the  last  touches,  and  getting 
people  and  things  all  ship-shape  and  comfortable, 
and  making  no  more  sound  than  a  cat.  He  never 
spoke;  he  moved  people  around,  he  squeezed  in  late 
ones,  he  opened  up  passageways,  and  done  it  with 
nods,  and  signs  with  his  hands.  Then  he  took  his 
place  over  against  the  wall.  He  was  the  softest , 
glidingest,  stealthiest  man  I  ever  see;  and  there 
warn't  no  more  smile  to  him  than  there  is  to  a  ham. 

They  had  borrowed  a  melodeum — a  sick  one;  and 
when  everything  was  ready  a  young  woman  set  down 
and  worked  it,  and  it  was  pretty  skreeky  and  colicky,, 

25° 


ALL  FULL  OF  TEARS  AND  FLAPDOODLE 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

and  everybody  joined  in  and  sung,  and  Peter  was 
the  only  one  that  had  a  good  thing,  according  to  my 
notion.  Then  the  Reverend  Hobson  opened  up, 
slow  and  solemn,  and  begun  to  talk;  and  straight  off 
the  most  outrageous  row  busted  out  in  the  cellar  a 
body  ever  heard;  it  was  only  one  dog,  but  he  made 
a  most  powerful  racket,  and  he  kept  it  up  right  along; 
the  parson  he  had  to  stand  there,  over  the  coffin,  and 
wait — you  couldn't  hear  yourself  think.  It  was 
right  down  awkward,  and  nobody  didn't  seem  to 
know  what  to  do.  But  pretty  soon  they  see  that 
long-legged  undertaker  make  a  sign  to  the  preacher 
as  much  as  to  say,  ''Don't  you  worry — just  depend 
on  me."  Then  he  stooped  down  and  begun  to  glide 
along  the  wall,  just  his  shoulders  showing  over  the 
people's  heads.  So  he  glided  along,  and  the  powwow 
and  racket  getting  more  and  more  outrageous  all  the 
time;  and  at  last,  when  he  had  gone  around  two  sides 
of  the  room,  he  disappears  down  cellar.  Then  in 
about  two  seconds  we  heard  a  whack,  and  the  dog 
he  finished  up  with  a  most  amazing  howl  or  two,  and 
then  everything  was  dead  still,  and  the  parson  begun 
his  solemn  talk  where  he  left  off.  In  a  minute  or  two 
here  comes  this  undertaker's  back  and  shoulders 
gliding  along"  the  wall  again;  and  so  he  glided  and 
glided  around  three  sides  of  the  room,  and  then  rose 
up,  and  shaded  his  mouth  with  his  hands,  and 
stretched  his  neck  out  towards  the  preacher,  over  the 
people's  heads,  and  says,  in  a  kind  of  a  coarse  whis- 
per, "He  had  a  rat!"  Then  he  drooped  down  and 
glided  along  the  wall  again  to  his  place.  You  could 
see  it  was  a  great  satisfaction  to  the  people,  because 

2  CI  M.T-3-9 


MARK  TWAIN 


naturally  they  wanted  to  know.  A  little  thing  like 
that  don't  cost  nothing,  and  it's  just  the  little  things 
that  makes  a  man  to  be  looked  up  to  and  liked. 
There  warn't  no  more  popular  man  in  town  than 
what  that  undertaker  was. 

Well,  the  funeral  sermon  was  very  good,  but  pison 
long  and  tiresome;  and  then  the  king  he  shoved  in 
and  got  off  some  of  his  usual  rubbage,  and  at  last 
the  job  was  through,  and  the  undertaker  begun  to 
sneak  up  on  the  coffin  with  his  screw-driver.  I  was 
in  a  sweat  then,  and  watched  him  pretty  keen.  But 
he  never  meddled  at  all;  just  slid  the  lid  along  as 
soft  as  mush,  and  screwed  it  down  tight  and  fast. 
vSo  there  I  was!  I  didn't  know  whether  the  money 
was  in  there  or  not.  So,  says  I,  s'pose  somebody  has 
hogged  that  bag  on  the  sly?— now  how  do  J  know 
whether  to  write  to  Mary  Jane  or  not?  S'pose  she 
dug  him  up  and  didn't  find  nothing,  what  would  she 
think  of  me?  Blame  it,  I  says,  I  might  get  hunted 
up  and  jailed;  I'd  better  lay  low  and  keep  dark,  and 
not  write  at  all;  the  thing's  awful  mixed  now;  trying 
to  better  it,  I've  worsened  it  a  hundred  times,  and  I 
wish  to  goodness  I'd  just  let  it  alone,  dad  fetch  the 
whole  business! 

They  buried  him,  and  we  come  back  home,  and  I 
went  to  watching  faces  again — I  couldn't  help  it,  and 
I  couldn't  rest  easy.  But  nothing  come  of  it;  the 
faces  didn't  tell  me  nothing. 

The  king  he  visited  around  in  the  evening,  and 
sweetened  everybody  up,  and  made  himself  ever  so 
friendly;  and  he  give  out  the  idea  that  his  congre- 
gation over  in  England  would  be  in  a  sweat  about 

252 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

him,  so  he  must  hurry  and  settle  up  the  estate  right 
away  and  leave  for  home.  He  was  very  sorry  he  was 
so  pushed,  and  so  was  everybody;  they  wished  he 
could  stay  longer,  but  they  said  they  could  see  it 
couldn't  be  done.  And  he  said  of  course  him  and 
William  would  take  the  girls  home  with  them;  and 
that  pleased  everybody  too,  because  then  the  girls 
would  be  well  fixed  and  amongst  their  own  relations; 
and  it  pleased  the  girls,  too—tickled  them  so  they 
clean  forgot  they  ever  had  a  trouble  in  the  world; 
and  told  him  to  sell  out  as  quick  as  he  wanted  to, 
they  would  be  ready.  Them  poor  things  was  that 
glad  and  happy  it  made  my  heart  ache  to  see  them 
getting  fooled  and  lied  to  so,  but  I  didn't  see  no  safe 
way  for  me  to  chip  in  and  change  the  general  tune. 

Well,  blamed  if  the  king  didn't  bill  the  house  and 
the  niggers  and  all  the  property  for  auction  straight 
off-— sale  two  days  after  the  funeral;  but  anybody 
could  buy  private  beforehand  if  they  wanted  to. 

So  the  next  day  after  the  funeral,  along  about  noon- 
time, the  girls'  joy  got  the  first  jolt.  A  cotiple  of 
nigger-traders  come  along,  and  the  king  sold  them  the 
niggers  reasonable,  for  three-day  drafts  as  they  called 
it,  and  away  they  went,  the  two  sons  up  the  river  to 
Memphis,  and  their  mother  down  the  river  to 
Orleans.  I  thought  them  poor  girls  and  them  niggers 
would  break  their  hearts  for  grief;  they  cried  around 
each  other,  and  took  on  so  it  most  made  me  down 
sick  to  see  it.  The  girls  said  they  hadn't  ever 
dreamed  of  seeing  the  family  separated  or  sold  away 
from  the  town.  I  can't  ever  get  it  out  of  my  memory, 
the  sight  of  them  poor  miserable  girls  and  niggers 

253 


MARK  TWAIN 


hanging  around  each  other's  necks  and  crying;  and 
I  reckon  I  couldn't  'a'  stood  it  all,  but  would  'a'  had 
to  bust  out  and  tell  on  our  gang  if  I  hadn't  knowed 
the  sale  warn't  no  account  and  the  niggers  would  be 
back  home  in  a  week  or  two. 

The  thing  made  a  big  stir  in  the  town,  too,  and  a 
good  many  come  out  flatfooted  and  said  it  was  scan- 
dalous to  separate  the  mother  and  the  children  that 
way.  It  injured  the  frauds  some;  but  the  old  fool 
he  bulled  right  along,  spite  of  all  the  duke  could  say 
or  do,  and  I  tell  you  the  duke  was  powerful  uneasy. 

Next  day  was  auction  day.  About  broad  day  in 
the  morning  the  king  and  the  duke  come  up  in  the 
garret  and  woke  me  up,  and  I  see  by  their  look  that 
there  was  trouble.    The  king  says: 

"Was  you  in  my  room  night  before  last?" 

"No,  your  majesty" — which  was  the  way  I  al- 
ways called  him  when  nobody  but  our  gang  warn't 
around. 

"Was  you  in  there  yisterday  er  last  night?" 

"No,  your  majesty." 

"Honor  bright,  now — no  lies." 

"Honor  bright,  your  majesty,  I'm  telling  you  the 
truth.  I  hain't  been  a-near  your  room  since  Miss 
Mary  Jane  took  you  and  the  duke  and  showed  it  to 
jou." 

The  duke  says: 

"Have  you  seen  anybody  else  go  in  there?" 
"No,  your  grace,  not  as  I  remember,  I  believe." 
"Stop  and  think." 

I  studied  awhile  and  see  my  chance;  then  I  says: 
"Well*  I  see  the  niggers  go  in  there  several  times." 
254 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


Both  of  them  gave  a  little  jump,  and  looked  like 
they  hadn't  ever  expected  it,  and  then  like  they  had. 
Then  the  duke  says : 

"What,  all  of  them?" 

"No — leastways,  not  all  at  once — that  is,  I  don't 
think  I  ever  see  them  all  come  out  at  once  but  just  one 
time." 

"Hello!    When  was  that?" 

' '  It  was  the  day  we  had  the  funeral.  In  the  morn- 
ing. It  warn't  early,  because  I  overslept.  I  was 
just  starting  down  the  ladder,  and  I  see  them." 

"Well,  go  on,  go  on!  What  did  they  do?  How'd 
they  act?" 

"They  didn't  do  nothing.  And  they  didn't  act 
anyway  much,  as  fur  as  I  see.  They  tiptoed  away; 
so  I  seen,  easy  enough,  that  they'd  shoved  in  there  to 
do  up  your  majesty's  room,  or  something,  s'posing 
you  was  up;  and  found  you  warn't  up,  and  so  they 
was  hoping  to  slide  out  of  the  way  of  trouble  without 
waking  you  up,  if  they  hadn't  already  waked  you 
up." 

"Great  guns,  this  is  a  go!"  says  the  king;  and 
both  of  them  looked  pretty  sick  and  tolerable  silly. 
They  stood  there  a-thinking  and  scratching  their 
heads  a  minute,  and  the  duke  he  bust  into  a  kind  of  a 
little  raspy  chuckle,  and  says : 

"It  does  beat  all  how  neat  the  niggers  played  their 
hand.  They  let  on  to  be  sorry  they  was  going  out  of 
this  region!  And  I  believed  they  was  sorry,  and  so 
did  you,  and  so  did  everybody.  Don't  ever  tell  me 
any  more  that  a  nigger  ain't  got  any  histrionic  talent. 
Why,  the  way  they  played  that  thing  it  would  fool 


mark:  twain 


anybody.  In  my  opinion,  there's  a  fortune  in  'em. 
If  I  had  capital  and  a  theater,  I  wouldn't  want  a 

better  lay-out  than  that— and  here  we've  gone  and 
sold  'em  for  a  song.  Yes,  and  ain't  privileged  to  sing 
the  song  yet.    Say,  where  is  that  song — that  draft?" 

"In  the  bank  for  to  be  collected.  Where  would  it 
be?" 

"Well,  that's  all  right  then,  thank  goodness." 

Says  I,  kind  of  timid-like: 

"Is  something  gone  wrong?" 

The  king  whirls  on  me  and  rips  out : 

"None  o'  your  business!  You  keep  your  head 
shet,  and  mind  y'r  own  affairs— if  you  got  any. 
Long  as  you're  in  this  town  don't  you  forgit  that— 
you  hear?"  Then  he  says  to  the  duke,  "We  got  to 
jest  s waller  it  and  say  noth'n':  mum's  the  word  for 
us." 

As  they  was  starting  down  the  ladder  the  duke  he 
chuckles  again,  and  says: 

"Quick  sales  and  small  profits!  It's  a  good  busi- 
ness— yes." 

The  king  snarls  around  on  him  and  says: 

"I  was  trying  to  do  for  the  best  in  sellin'  'em  out 
so  qtiick.  If  the  profits  has  turned  out  to  be  none, 
lackin'  considable,  and  none  to  carry,  is  it  my  fault 
any  more'n  it's  yourn?" 

"Well,  they'd  be  in  this  house  yet  and  we  wouldn't 
if  I  could  'a'  got  my  advice  listened  to." 

The  king  sassed  back  as  much  as  was  safe  for  him, 
and  then  swapped  around  and  lit  into  me  again.  He 
give  me  down  the  banks  for  not  coming  and  telling 
him  I  see  the  niggers  come  out  of  his  room  acting  that 

2  $6 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


way — said  any  fool  would  'a'  knowed  something  was 
up.  And  then  waltzed  in  and  cussed  himself  awhile, 
and  said  it  all  come  of  him  not  laying  late  and  taking 
his  natural  rest  that  morning,  and  he'd  be  blamed  if 
he'd  ever  do  it  again.  So  they  went  off  a-jawing; 
and  I  felt  dreadful  glad  I'd  worked  it  all  off  onto 
the  niggers,  and  yet  hadn't  done  the  niggers  no 
harm  by  it. 


2S7 


CHAPTER  XXVTII 

BY  and  by  it  was  getting-up  time.  So  I  come 
1  down  the  ladder  and  started  for  down-stairs; 
but  as  I  come  to  the  girls'  room  the  door  was  open, 
and  I  see  Mary  Jane  setting  by  her  old  hair  trunk, 
which  was  open  and  she'd  been  packing  things  in  it 
— getting  ready  to  go  to  England.  But  she  had 
stopped  now  with  a  folded  gown  in  her  lap,  and  had 
her  face  in  her  hands,  crying.  I  felt  awful  bad  to 
see  it;  of  course  anybody  would.  I  went  in  there 
and  says : 

"Miss  Maiy  Jane,  you  can't  a-bear  to  see  people 
in  trouble,  and  I  can't — most  always.  Tell  me 
about  it." 

So  she  done  it.  And  it  was  the  niggers — I  just 
expected  it.  She  said  the  beautiful  trip  to  England 
was  most  about  spoiled  for  her;  she  didn't  know  how 
she  was  ever  going  to  be  happy  there,  knowing  the 
mother  and  the  children  warn't  ever  going  to  see 
each  other  no  more — and  then  busted  out  bitterer 
than  ever,  and  flung  up  her  hands,  and  says : 

"Oh,  dear,  dear,  to  think  they  ain't  ever  going  to 
see  each  other  any  more!" 

"But  they  will — and  inside  of  two  weeks — and  I 
know  it!"  says  I. 

Laws,  it  was  out  before  I  could  think!  And  before 
258 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


I  could  budge  she  throws  her  arms  around  my  neck 
and  told  me  to  say  it  again,  say  it  again,  say  it  again! 

I  see  I  had  spoke  too  sudden  and  said  too  much, 
and  was  in  a  close  place.  I  asked  her  to  let  me  think 
a  minute;  and  she  set  there,  very  impatient  and  ex- 
cited and  handsome,  but  looking  kind  of  happy  and 
eased-up,  like  a  person  that's  had  a  tooth  pulled  out. 
So  I  went  to  studying  it  out.  I  says  to  myself,  I 
reckon  a  body  that  ups  and  tells  the  truth  when  he  it 
in  a  tight  place  is  taking  considerable  many  resks, 
though  I  ain't  had  no  experience,  and  can't  say  for 
certain;  but  it  looks  so  to  me,  anyway;  and  yet 
here's  a  case  where  I'm  blest  if  it  don't  look  to  me 
like  the  truth  is  better  and  actuly  safer  than  a  lie. 
I  must  lay  it  by  in  my  mind,  and  think  it  over  some 
time  or  other,  it's  so  kind  of  strange  and  unregular. 
I  never  see  nothing  like  it.  Well,  I  says  to  myself 
at  last,  I'm  a-going  to  chance  it;  I'll  up  and  tell  the 
truth  this  time,  though  it  does  seem  most  like  setting 
down  on  a  kag  of  powder  and  touching  it  off  just  to 
see  where  you'll  go  to.    Then  I  says: 

"Miss  Mary  Jane,  is  there  any  place  out  of  town  a 
little  ways  where  you  could  go  and  stay  three  or  four 
days?"  " 

"Yes;  Mr.  Lothrop's.  Why?" 

' 1  Never  mind  why  yet.  If  I'll  tell  you  how  I  know 
the  niggers  will  see  each  other  again — inside  of  two 
weeks — here  in  this  house — and  prove  how  I  know 
it—will  you  go  to  Mr.  Lothrop's  and  stay  four  days?" 

' ' Four  days !"  she  says ;  "I'll  stay  a  year !' ' 

"All  right,"  I  says,  "I  don't  want  nothing  more 
out  of  you  than  just  your  word — I  druther  have  it 

259 


MARK  TWAIN 


than  another  man's  kiss-the-B ible .  * '  She  smiled  and 
reddened  up  very  sweet,  and  I  says,  "If  you  don't 
mind  it,  I'll  shut  the  door— and  bolt  it." 

Then  I  come  back  and  set  down  again,  and  says: 

"Don't  you  holler.  Just  set  still  and  take  it  like  a 
man.  I  got  to  tell  the  truth,  and  you  want  to  brace 
up,  Miss  Mary,  because  it's  a  bad  kind,  and  going  to 
be  hard  to  take,  but  there  ain't  no  help  for  it.  These 
uncles  of  yourn  ain't  no  uncles  at  all ;  they're  a  couple 
of  frauds — regular  dead-beats.  ;  There,  now  we're  over 
the  worst  of  it,  you  can  stand  the  rest  middling  easy." 

It  jolted  her  up  like  everything,  of  course;  but  I 
was  over  the  shoal  water  now,  so  I  went  right  along, 
her  eyes  a-blazing  higher  and  higher  all  the  time,  and 
told  her  every  blame  thing,  from  where  we  first  struck 
that  young  fool  going  up  to  the  steamboat,  clear 
through  to  where  she  flung  herself  onto  the  king's 
breast  at  the  front  door  and  he  kissed  her  sixteen  or 
seventeen  times — and  then  up  she  jumps,  with  her 
face  afire  like  sunset,  and  says: 

"The  brute!  Come,  don't  waste  a  minute—not  a 
second — we'll  have  them  tarred  and  feathered,  and 
flung  in  the  river!" 

Says  I: 

' '  Cert'nly.  But  do  you  mean  before  you  go  to  Mr. 
Lothrop's,  or—" 

"Oh,"  she  says,  "what  am  I  thinking  about!" 
she  says,  and  set  right  down  again.  "Don't  mind 
what  I  said — please  don't — you  won't,  now,  will 
you?"  Laying  her  silky  hand  on  mine  in  that  kind 
of  a  way  that  I  said  I  would  die  first.  "I  never 
thought,  I  was  so  stirred  up,"  she  says;  "now  go  on, 

260 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


and  I  won't  do  so  any  more.  You  tell  me  what  to  do, 
and  whatever  you  say  I'll  do  it." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "it's  a  rough  gang,  them  two 
frauds,  and  I'm  fixed  so  I  got  to  travel  with  them  a 
while  longer,  whether  I  want  to  or  not— I  druther  not 
tell  you  why;  and  if  you  was  to  blow  on  them  this 
town  would  get  me  out  of  their  claws,  and  I'd  be  all 
right;  but  there'd  be  another  person  that  you  don't 
know  about  who'd  be  in  big  trouble.  Well,  we  got 
to  save  him,  hain't  we?  Of  course.  Well,  then,  we 
won't  blow  on  them." 

Saying  them  words  put  a  good  idea  in  my  head.  I 
see  how  maybe  I  could  get  me  and  Jim  rid  of  the 
frauds;  get  them  jailed  here,  and  then  leave.  But  I 
didn't  want  to  run  the  raft  in  the  daytime  without 
anybody  aboard  to  answer  questions  but  me;  so  I 
didn't  want  the  plan  to  begin  working  till  pretty  late 
to-night.    I  says : 

"Miss  Mary  Jane,  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,  and 
you  won't  have  to  stay  at  Mr.  Lothrop's  so  long,, 
nuther .    How  fur  is  it?" 

"A  little  short  of  four  miles — right  out  in  the 
country,  back  here." 

"Well,  that  '11  answer.  Now  you  go  along  out 
there,  and  lay  low  till  nine  or  half  past  to-night,  and 
then  get  them  to  fetch  you  home  again — tell  them 
you've  thought  of  something.  If  you  get  here  before 
eleven  put  a  candle  in  this  window,  and  if  I  don't 
turn  up  wait  till  eleven,  and  then  if  I  don't  turn  up  it 
means  I'm  gone,  and  out  of  the  way,  and  safe.  Then 
you  come  out  and  spread  the  news  around,  and  get 
these  beats  jailed." 

261 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Good,"  she  says,  "111  do  it." 

"And  if  it  just  happens  so  that  I  don't  get  away, 
but  get  took  up  along  with  them,  you  must  up  and 
say  I  told  you  the  whole  thing  beforehand,  and  you 
must  stand  by  me  all  you  can." 

c  1  Stand  by  you !  indeed  I  will.  They  sha'n't  touch 
a  hair  of  your  head!"  she  says,  and  I  see  her  nostrils 
spread  and  her  eyes  snap  when  she  said  it,  too. 

"If  I  get  away  I  sha'n't  be  here,"  I  says,  "to 
prove  these  rapscallions  ain't  your  uncles,  and  I 
couldn't  do  it  if  I  was  here.  I  could  swear  they  was 
beats  and  bummers,  that's  all,  though  that's  worth 
something.  Well,  there's  others  can  do  that  better 
than  what  I  can,  and  they're  people  that  ain't  going 
to  be  doubted  as  quick  as  I'd  be.  I'll  tell  you  how  to 
find  them.  Gimme  a  pencil  and  a  piece  of  paper. 
There — 'Royal  Nonesuch,  Bricksville.9  Put  it  away, 
and  don't  lose  it.  When  the  court  wants  to  find  out 
something  about  these  two,  let  them  send  up  to 
Bricksville  and  say  they've  got  the  men  that  played 
the  '  Royal  Nonesuch,'  and  ask  for  some  witnesses — 
why,  you'll  have  that  entire  town  down  here  before 
you  can  hardly  wink,  Miss  Mary.  And  they'll  come 
a-biling,  too." 

I  judged  we  had  got  everything  fixed  about  right 
now.    So  I  says: 

"Just  let  the  auction  go  right  along,  and  don't 
worry.  Nobody  don't  have  to  pay  for  the  things 
they  buy  till  a  whole  day  after  the  auction  on  ac- 
counts of  the  short  notice,  and  they  ain't  going  out 
of  this  till  they  get  that  money;  and  the  way  we've 
fixed  it  the  sale  ain't  going  to  count,  and  they  ain't 

262 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


going  to  get  no  money.  It's  just  like  the  way  it  was 
with  the  niggers — it  warn't  no  sale,  and  the  niggers 
will  be  back  before  long.  Why,  they  can't  collect 
the  money  for  the  niggers  yet — they're  in  the  worst 
kind  of  a  fix,  Miss  Mary." 

"Well,"  she  says,  "I'll  run  down  to  breakfast  now, 
and  then  I'll  start  straight  for  Mr.  Lothrop's." 

"  'Deed,  that  ain't  the  ticket,  Miss  Mary  Jane,"  I 
says,  "by  no  manner  of  means;  go  before  breakfast." 

"Why?" 

"What  did  you  reckon  I  wanted  you  to  go  at  all 
for,  Miss  Mary?" 

"Well,  I  never  thought — and  come  to  think,  I 
don't  know.    What  was  it?" 

"Why,  it's  because  you  ain't  one  of  these  leather- 
face  people.  I  don't  want  no  better  book  than  what 
your  face  is.  A  body  can  set  down  and  read  it  off 
like  coarse  print.  Do  you  reckon  you  can  go  and 
face  your  uncles  when  they  come  to  kiss  you  good- 
morning,  and  never — " 

"There,  there,  don't!  Yes,  I'll  go  before  break- 
fast— I'll  be  glad  to.  And  leave  my  sisters  with 
them?" 

"Yes;  never  mind  about  them.  They've  got  to 
stand  it  yet  awhile.  They  might  suspicion  some- 
thing if  all  of  you  was  to  go.  I  don't  want  you  to 
see  them,  nor  your  sisters,  nor  nobody  in  this  town; 
if  a  neighbor  was  to  ask  how  is  your  uncles  this 
morning  your  face  would  tell  something.  No,  you 
go  right  along,  Miss  Mary  Jane,  and  I'll  fix  it  with 
all  of  them.  I'll  tell  Miss  Susan  to  give  your  love 
to  your  uncles  and  say  you've  went  away  for  a  few 

263 


MARK  TWAIN 

hours  for  to  get  a  little  rest  and  change,  or  to  see  a 
friend,  and  you'll  be  back  to-night  or  early  in  tjae 
morning."  j 

"Gone  to  see  a  friend  is  all  right,  but  I  won't 
have  my  love  given  to  them." 

"Well,  then,  it  sha'n't  be."  It  was  well  enough 
to  tell  her  so — no  harm  in  it.  It  was  only  a  little 
thing  to  do,  and  no  trouble;  and  it's  the  little  things 
that  smooths  people's  roads  the  most,  down  here 
below;  it  would  make  Mary  Jane  comfortable,  and 
it  wouldn't  cost  nothing.  Then  I  says :  * ' There's  one 
more  thing — that  bag  of  money." 

"Well,  they've  got  that;  and  it  makes  me  feel 
pretty  silly  to  think  how  they  got  it." 

"No,  you're  out,  there.    They  hain't  got  it." 

"Why,  who's  got  it?" 

"I  wish  I  knowed,  but  I  don't.  I  had  it,  because 
I  stole  it  from  them ;  and  I  stole  it  to  give  to  you ;  and 
I  know  where  I  hid  it,  but  I'm  afraid  it  ain't  there 
no  more.  I'm  awful  sorry,  Miss  Mary  Jane,  I'm 
just  as  sorry  as  I  can  be;  but  I  done  the  best  I  could; 
I  did  honest.  I  come  nigh  getting  caught,  and  I  had 
to  shove  it  into  the  first  place  I  come  to,  and  run — 
and  it  warn't  a  good  place," 

"Oh,  stop  blaming  yourself — it's  too  bad  to  do  it, 
and  I  won't  allow  it — you  couldn't  help  it;  it  wasn't 
your  fault.    Where  did  you  hide  it?" 

I  didn't  want  to  set  her  to  thinking  about  her 
troubles  again ;  and  I  couldn't  seem  to  get  my  mouth  to 
tell  her  what  would  make  her  see  that  corpse  laying 
in  the  coffin  with  that  bag  of  money  on  his  stomach. 
So  for  a  minute  I  didn't  say  nothing;  then  I  says: 

264 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"I'd  ruther  not  tell  you  where  I  put  it,  Miss  Mary 
Jane,  if  you  don't  mind  letting  me  off;  but  I'll  write 
it  for  you  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and  you  can  read  it 
along  the  road  to  Mr.  Lothrop's,  if  you  want  to. 
Do  you  reckon  that  '11  do?" 

"Oh,  yes." 

So  I  wrote:  "I  put  it  in  the  coffin.  It  was  in 
there  when  you  was  crying  there,  away  in  the  night. 
I  was  behind  the  door,  and  I  was  mighty  sorry  for 
you,  Miss  Mary  Jane." 

It  made  my  eyes  water  a  little  to  remember  her 
crying  there  all  by  herself  in  the  night,  and  them 
devils  laying  there  right  under  her  own  roof,  shaming 
her  and  robbing  her;  and  when  I  folded  it  up  and 
give  it  to  her  I  see  the  water  come  into  her  eyes,  too; 
and  she  shook  me  by  the  hand,  hard,  and  says : 

"Good-by.  I'm  going  to  do  everything  just  as 
you've  told  me;  and  if  I  don't  ever  see  you  again, 
I  sha'n't  ever  forget  you,  and  I'll  think  of  you  a 
many  and  a  many  a  time,  and  I'll  pray  for  you, 
too!" — and  she  was  gone. 

Pray  for  me!  I  reckoned  if  she  knowed  me  she'd 
take  a  job  that  was  more  nearer  her  size.  But  I  bet 
she  done  it,  just  the  same— she  was  just  that  kind. 
She  had  the  grit  to  pray  for  Judus  if  she  took  the 
notion— there  warn't  no  back=down  to  her,  I  judge. 
You  may  say  what  you  want  to,  but  in  my  opinion 
she  had  more  sand  in  her  than  any  girl  I  ever  see; 
in  my  opinion  she  was  just  full  of  sand.  It  sounds 
like  flattery,  but  it  ain't  no  flattery.  And  when  it 
comes  to  beauty — and  goodness,  too — she  lays  over 
them  all.    I  hain't  ever  seen  her  since  that  time  that 

265 


MARK  TWAIN 


I  see  her  go  out  of  that  door;  no,  I  hain't  ever  seen 
her  since,  but  I  reckon  I've  thought  of  her  a  many 
and  a  many  a  million  times,  and  of  her  saying  she 
would  pray  for  me;  and  if  ever  I'd  'a'  thought  it 
would  do  any  good  for  me  to  pray  for  her,  blamed 
if  I  wouldn't  'a'  done  it  or  bust. 

Well,  Mary  Jane  she  lit  out  the  back  way,  I  reckon; 
because  nobody  see  her  go.  When  I  struck  Susan 
and  the  hare-lip,  I  says: 

'  'What's  the  name  of  them  people  over  on  t'other 
side  of  the  river  that  you  all  goes  to  see  sometimes?" 

They  says : 

1  'There's  several;  but  it's  the  Proctors,  mainly." 

" That's  the  name,"  I  says;  "I  most  forgot  it. 
Well,  Miss  Mary  Jane  she  told  me  to  tell  you  she's 
gone  over  there  in  a  dreadful  hurry — one  of  them's 
sick." 

"Which  one?" 

"I  don't  know;  leastways,  I  kinder  forgot;  but  I 
thinks  it's—" 

"Sakes  alive,  I  hope  it  ain't  Hanner?" 

"I'm  sorry  to  say  it,"  I  says,  "but  Hanner 's  the 
very  one." 

"My  goodness,  and  she  so  well  only  last  week! 
Is  she  took  bad?" 

"It  ain't  no  name  for  it.  They  set  up  with  her 
all  night,  Miss  Mary  Jane  said,  and  they  don't  think 
she'll  last  many  hours." 

"Only  think  of  that,  now!  What's  the  matter 
with  her?" 

I  couldn't  think  of  anything  reasonable,  right  off 
that  way,  so  I  says : 

266 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Mumps." 

" Mumps  your  granny!  They  don't  set  up  with 
people  that's  got  the  mumps." 

"They  don't,  don't  they?  You  better  bet  they 
do  with  these  mumps.  These  mumps  is  different. 
It's  a  new  kind,  Miss  Mary  Jane  said." 

"How's  it  a  new  kind?" 

"Because  it's  mixed  up  with  other  things." 

"What  other  things?" 

"Well,  measles,  and  whooping-cough,  and  erysip- 
las,  and  consumption,  and  yaller  janders,  and  brain- 
fever,  and  I  don't  know  what  all." 

"My  land!    And  they  call  it  the  mumps f" 

"That's  what  Miss  Mary  Jane  said." 

"Well,  what  in  the  nation  do  they  call  it  the 
mumps  for?" 

"Why,  because  it  is  the  mumps.  That's  what  it 
starts  with." 

"Well,  ther'  ain't  no  sense  in  it.  A  body  might 
stump  his  toe,  and  take  pison,  and  fall  down  the 
well,  and  break  his  neck,  and  bust  his  brains  out,  and 
somebody  come  along  and  ask  what  killed  him,  and 
some  numskull  up  and  say,  'Why,  he  stumped  his 
toe'  Would  ther'  be  any  sense  in  that?  No.  And 
ther'  ain't  no  sense  in  this,  nuther.  Is  it  ketch- 
ing?"  ^ 

"  Is  it  ketching  ?  Why,  how  you  talk.  Is  a  harrow 
catching — in  the  dark?  If  you  don't  hitch  on  to 
one  tooth,  you're  bound  to  on  another,  ain't  you? 
And  you  can't  get  away  with  that  tooth  without 
fetching  the  whole  harrow  along,  can  you?  Well, 
these  kind  of  mumps  is  a  kind  of  a  harrow,  as  you 

267 


MARK  TWAIN 


may  say— and  it  ain't  no  slouch  of  a  harrow,  nuther, 
you  come  to  get  it  hitched  on  good." 

"Well,  it's  awful,  I  think,"  says  the  hare-Hp. 
•Til  go  to  Uncle  Harvey  and—" 

"Oh,  yes,"  I  says,  "I  would.  Of  course  I  would 
I  wouldn't  lose  no  time." 

"Well,  why  wouldn't  you?" 

"Just  look  at  it  a  minute,  and  maybe  you  can  see. 
Hain't  your  uncles  obleeged  to  get  along  home  to 
England  as  fast  as  they  can?  And  do  you  reckon 
they'd  be  mean  enough  to  go  off  and  leave  you  to  go 
all  that  journey  by  yourselves?  You  know  they'll 
wait  for  you.  So  fur,  so  good.  Your  uncle  Harvey's 
a  preacher,  ain't  he?  Very  well,  then;  is  a  preacher 
going  to  deceive  a  steamboat  clerk?  is  he  going  to 
deceive  a  ship  clerk  f — so  as  to  get  them  to  let  Miss 
Mary  Jane  go  aboard?  Now  you  know  he  ain't. 
What  will  he  do,  then?  Why,  he'll  say,  'It's  a  great 
pity,  but  my  church  matters  has  got  to  get  along 
the  best  way  they  can;  for  my  niece  has  been  exposed 
to  the  dreadful  pluribus-unum  mumps,  and  so  it's 
my  bounden  duty  to  set  down  here  and  wait  the 
three  months  it  takes  to  show  on  her  if  she's  got  it.' 
But  never  mind,  if  you  think  it's  best  to  tell  your 
uncle  Harvey—" 

"Shucks,  and  stay  fooling  around  here  when  we 
could  all  be  having  good  times  in  England  whilst 
we  was  waiting  to  find  out  whether  Mary  Jane's  got 
it  or  not?   Why,  you  talk  like  a  muggins." 

"Well,  anyway,  maybe  you'd  better  tell  some  of 
the  neighbors." 

"Listen  at  that,  now.  You  do  beat  all  for  natural 
263 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


stupidness.  Can't  you  see  that  tltey'd  go  and  tell? 
f  her'  ain't  no  way  but  just  to  not  tell  anybody 
at  alV 

"Well,  maybe  you're  right — yes,  I  judge  you  are 
right." 

"But  I  reckon  we  ought  to  tell  Uncle  Harvey 
she's  gone  out  awhile,  anyway,  so  he  won't  be  un- 
easy about  her?" 

'  'Yes,  Miss  Mary  Jane  she  wanted  you  to  do  that. 
She  says,  'Tell  them  to  give  Uncle  Harvey  and 
William  my  love  and  a  kiss,  and  say  I've  run  over  the 
river  to  see  Mr.' — Mr. — what  is  the  name  of  that 
rich  family  your  uncle  Peter  used  to  think  so  much 
of? — I  mean  the  one  that — " 

"Why,  you  must  mean  the  Apthorps,  ain't  it?" 

"Of  course;  bother  them  kind  of  names,  a  body 
can't  ever  seem  to  remember  them,  half  the  time, 
somehow.  Yes,  she  said,  say  she  has  run  over  for 
to  ask  the  Apthorps  to  be  sure  and  come  to  the 
auction  and  buy  this  house,  because  she  allowed  her 
uncle  Peter  would  ruther  they  had  it  than  anybody 
else;  and  she's  going  to  stick  to  them  till  they  say 
they'll  come,  and  then,  if  she  ain't  too  tired,  she's 
coming  home;  and  if  she  is,  she'll  be  home  in  the 
morning  anyway.  She  said,  don't  say  nothing  about 
the  Proctors,  but  only  about  the  Apthorps — which  '11 
be  perfectly  true,  because  she  is  going  there  to  speak 
about  their  buying  the  house;  I  know  it,  because  she 
told  me  so  herself." 

"All  right,"  they  said,  and  cleared  out  to  lay  for 
their  uncles,  and  give  them  the  love  and  the  kisses, 
and  tell  them  the  message. 

260 


MARK  TWAIN 

Everything  was  all  right  now.  The  girls  wouldn't 
say  nothing  because  they  wanted  to  go  to  England; 
and  the  king  and  the  duke  would  ruther  Mary  Jane 
was  off  working  for  the  auction  than  around  in  reach 
of  Doctor  Robinson.  I  felt  very  good;  I  judged  I 
had  done  it  pretty  neat — I  reckoned  Tom  Sawyer 
couldn't  'a'  done  it  no  neater  himself.  Of  course  he 
would  'a'  thro  wed  more  style  into  it,  but  I  can't  do 
that  very  handy,  not  being  brung  up  to  it. 

Well,  they  held  the  auction  in  the  public  square, 
along  towards  the  end  of  the  afternoon,  and  it  strung 
along,  and  strung  along,  and  the  old  man  he  was  on 
hand  and  looking  his  level  pisonest,  up  there  longside 
of  the  auctioneer,  and  chipping  in  a  little  Scripture 
now  and  then,  or  a  little  goody-goody  saying  of 
some  kind,  and  the  duke  he  was  around  goo-gooing 
for  sympathy  all  he  knowed  how,  and  just  spreading 
himself  generly. 

But  by  and  by  the  thing  dragged  through,  and 
everything  was  sold — everything  but  a  little  old 
trifling  lot  in  the  graveyard.  So  they'd  got  to  work 
that  off — I  never  see  such  a  girafft  as  the  king  was 
for  wanting  to  swallow  everything.  Well,  whilst  they 
was  at  it  a  steamboat  landed,  and  in  about  two 
minutes  up  comes  a  crowd  a-whooping  and  yelling 
and  laughing  and  carrying  on,  and  singing  out: 

"Here's  your  opposition  line!  here's  your  two  sets 
o'  heirs  to  old  Peter  Wilks — and  you  pays  your 
money  and  you  takes  your  choice!" 


270 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


HEY  was  fetching  a  very  nice-looking  old  gentle- 


1  man  along,  and  a  nice-looking  younger  one,  with 
his  right  arm  in  a  sling.  And,  my  souls,  how  the 
people  yelled  and  laughed,  and  kept  it  up.  But  I 
didn't  see  no  joke  about  it,  and  I  judged  it  would 
strain  the  duke  and  the  king  some  to  see  any.  I 
reckoned  they'd  turn  pale.  But  no,  nary  a  pale  did 
they  turn.  The  duke  he  never  let  on  he  suspicioned 
what  was  up,  but  just  went  a  goo-gooing  around, 
happy  and  satisfied,  like  a  jug  that's  googling  out 
buttermilk;  and  as  for  the  king,  he  just  gazed  and 
gazed  down  sorrowful  on  them  new-comers  like  it 
give  him  the  stomach-ache  in  his  very  heart  to  think 
there  could  be  such  frauds  and  rascals  in  the  world. 
Oh,  he  done  it  admirable.  Lots  of  the  principal  peo- 
ple gethered  around  the  king,  to  let  him  see  they  was 
on  his  side.  That  old  gentleman  that  had  just  come 
looked  all  puzzled  to  death.  Pretty  soon  he  begun  to 
speak,  and  I  see  straight  off  he  pronounced  like  an 
Englishman— not  the  king's  way,  though  the  king's 
was  pretty  good  for  an  imitation.  I  can't  give  the 
old  gent's  words,  nor  I  can't  imitate  him;  but  he 
turned  around  to  the  crowd,  and  says,  about  like 
this: 

"This  is  a  surprise  to  me  which  I  wasn't  looking 


2*1 


MARK  TWAIN 


for;  and  I'll  acknowledge,  candid  and  frank,  I  ain't 
very  well  fixed  to  meet  it  and  answer  it;  for  my 
brother  and  me  has  had  misfortunes;  he's  broke  his 
arm  and  our  baggage  got  put  off  at  a  town  above  here 
last  night  in  the  night  by  a  mistake.  I  am  Peter 
Wilks's  brother  Harvey,  and  this  is  his  brother  Wil- 
liam, which  can't  hear  nor  speak — and  can't  even 
make  signs  to  amount  to  much,  now't  he's  only  got 
one  hand  to  work  them  with.  We  are  who  we  say 
we  are;  and  in  a  day  or  two,  when  I  get  the  baggage, 
I  can  prove  it.  But  up  till  then  I  won't  say  nothing 
more,  but  go  to  the  hotel  and  wait." 

So  him  and  the  new  dummy  started  off;  and  the 
king  he  laughs,  and  blethers  out: 

" Broke  his  arm— very  likely,  ain't  it? — and  very 
convenient,  too,  for  a  fraud  that's  got  to  make  signs, 
and  ain't  learnt  how.  Lost  their  baggage!  That's 
mighty  good ! — and  mighty  ingenious — under  the  cir- 
cumstances T 

So  he  laughed  again;  and  so  did  everybody  else, 
except  three  or  four,  or  maybe  half  a  dozen.  One  of 
these  was  that  doctor;  another  one  was  a  sharp- 
v  looking  gentleman,  with  a  carpet-bag  of  the  old- 
fashioned  kind  made  out  of  carpet-stuff,  that  had  just 
come  off  of  the  steamboat  and  was  talking  to  him  in 
a  low  voice,  and  glancing  towards  the  king  now  and 
then  and  nodding  their  heads — it  was  Levi  Bell,  the 
lawyer  that  was  gone  up  to  Louisville;  and  another 
one  was  a  big  rough  husky  that  come  along  and 
listened  to  all  the  old  gentlemen  said,  and  was  listen- 
ing to  the  king  now.  And  when  the  king  got  done 
this  husky  up  and  says: 

272 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


s  4  Say,  looky  here ;  if  you  are  Harvey  Wilks,  when'd 
you  come  to  this  town?" 

"The  day  before  the  funeral,  friend,"  says  the  king. 
'  'But  what  time  o'  day?" 

"In  the  evenin' — 'bout  an  hour  er  two  before  sun- 
down." 

"How'd  you  come?" 

"I  come  down  on  the  Susan  Powell  from  Cincin- 
nati." 

"Well,  then,  how'd  you  come  to  be  up  at  the  Pint  . 
in  the  mornin'— in  sl  canoe?" 

"I  warn't  up  at  the  Pint  in  the  mornin'." 
"It's  a  lie." 

Several  of  them  jumped  for  him  and  begged  him 
not  to  talk  that  way  to  an  old  man  and  a  preacher. 

"Preacher  be  hanged,  he's  a  fraud  and  a  liar.  He 
was  up  at  the  Pint  that  mornin'.  I  live  up  there, 
don't  I  ?  Well,  I  was  up  there,  and  he  was  up  there. 
I  see  him  there.  He  come  in  a  canoe,  along  with  Tim 
Collins  and  a  boy." 

The  doctor  he  up  and  says : 

"Would  you  know  the  boy  again  if  you  was  to  see 
him,  Hines?" 

"I  reckon  I  would,  but  I  don't  know.  Why, 
yonder  he  is,  now.   I  know  him  perfectly  easy." 

It  was  me  he  pointed  at.   The  doctor  says : 

"Neighbors,  I  don't  know  whether  the  new  couple 
is  frauds  or  not;  but  if  these  two  ain't  frauds,  I  am  an 
idiot,  that's  all.  I  think  it's  our  duty  to  see  that  they 
don't  get  away  from  here  till  we've  looked  into  this 
thing.  Come  along,  Hines;  come  along,  the  rest  of 
you.    We'll  take  these  fellows  to  the  tavern  and 

273 


MARK  TWAIN 


affront  them  with  t'other  couple,  and  I  reckon  we'll 
find  out  something  before  we  get  through." 

It  was  nuts  for  the  crowd,  though  maybe  not  for 
the  king's  friends;  so  we  all  started.  It  was  about 
sundown.  The  doctor  he  led  me  along  by  the  hand, 
and  was  plenty  kind  enough,  but  he  never  let  go  my 
hand. 

We  all  got  in  a  big  room  in  the  hotel,  and  lit  up 
some  candles,  and  fetched  in  the  new  couple.  First, 
the  doctor  says : 

"I  don't  wish  to  be  too  hard  on  these  two  men,  but 
I  think  they're  frauds,  and  they  may  have  complices 
that  we  don't  know  nothing  about.  If  they  have, 
won't  the  complices  get  away  with  that  bag  of  gold 
Peter  Wilks  left?  It  ain't  unlikely.  If  these  men 
ain't  frauds,  they  won't  object  to  sending  for  that 
money  and  letting  us  keep  it  till  they  prove  they're 
all  right — ain't  that  so?" 

Everybody  agreed  to  that.  So  I  judged  they  had 
our  gang  in  a  pretty  tight  place  right  at  the  outstart. 
But  the  king  he  only  looked  sorrowful,  and  says: 

"  Gentlemen,  I  wish  the  money  was  there,  for  I 
ain't  got  no  disposition  to  throw  anything  in  the  way 
of  a  fair,  open,  out-and-out  investigation  o'  this 
misable  business;  but,  alas,  the  money  ain't  there; 
you  k'n  send  and  see,  if  you  want  to." 

"Where  is  it,  then?" 

"Well,  when  my  niece  give  it  to  me  to  keep  for  her 
I  took  and  hid  it  inside  o'  the  straw  tick  o'  my  bed, 
not  wishin*  to  bank  it  for  the  few  days  we'd  be  here, 
and  considerin'  the  bed  a  safe  place,  we  not  bein'  used 
to  niggers,  and  suppos'n'  'em  honest,  like  servants  in 

274 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


England.  The  niggers  stole  it  the  very  next  mornin* 
after  I  had  went  down-stairs;  and  when  I  sold  'em  1 
hadn't  missed  the  money  yit,  so  they  got  clean  away 
with  it.  My  servant  here  k'n  tell  you  'bout  it,  gen- 
tlemen." 

The  doctor  and  several  said  "Shucks!"  and  I  see 
nobody  didn't  altogether  believe  him.  One  man 
asked  me  if  I  see  the  niggers  steal  it.  I  said  no,  but  I 
see  them  sneaking  out  of  the  room  and  hustling  away, 
and  I  never  thought  nothing,  only  I  reckoned  they 
was  afraid  they  had  waked  up  my  master  and  was 
trying  to  get  away  before  he  made  trouble  with 
them.  That  was  all  they  asked  me.  Then  the  doc- 
tor whirls  on  me  and  says: 

"Are  you  English,  too?" 

I  says  yes;  and  him  and  some  others  laughed,  and 
said,  "Stuff!" 

Well,  then  they  sailed  in  on  the  general  investiga- 
tion, and  there  we  had  it,  up  and  down,  hour  in,  hour 
out,  and  nobody  never  said  a  word  about  supper,  nor 
ever  seemed  to  think  about  it — and  so  they  kept  it 
up,  and  kept  it  up;  and  it  was  the  worst  mixed-up 
thing  you  ever  see.  They  made  the  king  tell  his  yarn , 
and  they  made  the  old  gentleman  tell  his'n;  and  any- 
body but  a  lot  of  prejudiced  chuckleheads  would  'a' 
seen  that  the  old  gentleman  was  spinning  truth  and 
t'other  one  lies.  And  by  and  by  they  had  me  up 
to  tell  what  I  knowed.  The  king  he  give  me  a  left- 
handed  look  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and  so  I 
knowed  enough  to  talk  on  the  right  side.  I  begun  to 
tell  about  Sheffield,  and  how  we  lived  there,  and  all 
about  the  English  Wilkses,  and  so  on;  but  I  didn't 

375 


MARK  TWAIN 

get  pretty  fur  till  the  doctor  begun  to  laugh;  and 
Levi  Bell,  the  lawyer,  says: 

"Set  down,  my  boy;  I  wouldn't  strain  myself  if  J 
was  you.  I  reckon  you  ain't  used  to  lying,  it  don't 
seem  to  come  handy;  what  you  want  is  practice. 
You  do  it  pretty  awkward." 

I  didn't  care  nothing  for  the  compliment,  but  I  was 
glad  to  be  let  off,  anyway. 

The  doctor  he  started  to  say  something,  and  turns 
and  says: 

"If  you'd  been  in  town  at  first,  Levi  Eell — " 
The  king  broke  in  and  reached  out  his  hand,  and 
says : 

"Why,  is  this  my  poor  dead  brother's  old  friend 
that  he's  wrote  so  often  about?" 

The  lawyer  and  him  shook  hands,  and  the  lawyer 
smiled  and  looked  pleased,  and  they  talked  right 
along  awhile,  and  then  got  to  one  side  and  talked 
low;  and  at  last  the  lawyer  speaks  up  and  says: 

"That  '11  fix  it.  I'll  take  the  order  and  send  it, 
along  with  your  brother's,  and  then  they'll  know  it's 
all  right." 

So  they  got  some  paper  and  a  pen,  and  the  king  he 
set  down  and  twisted  his  head  to  one  side,  and  chawed 
his  tongue,  and  scrawled  off  something;  and  then 
they  give  the  pen  to  the  duke — -and  then  for  the  first 
time  the  duke  looked  sick.  But  he  took  the  pen  and 
wrote.  So  then  the  lawyer  turns  to  the  new  old 
gentleman  and  says: 

"You  and  your  brother  please  write  a  line  or  two 
and  sign  your  names," 

The  old  gentleman  wrote,  but  nobody  couldn't 
276 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


read  it.  The  lawyer  looked  powerful  astonished,  and 
says: 

"Well,  it  beats  me — and  snaked  a  lot  of  old  letters 
out  of  his  pocket,  and  examined  them,  and  then  ex- 
amined the  old  man's  writing,  and  then  them  again; 
and  then  says:  "These  old  letters  is  from  Harvey 
Wilks;  and  here's  these  two  handwritings,  and  any- 
body can  see  they  didn't  write  them"  (the  king  and 
the  duke  looked  sold  and  foolish,  I  tell  you,  to  see 
how  the  lawyer  had  took  them  in),  "and  here's  this 
old  gentleman's  handwriting,  and  anybody  can  tell, 
easy  enough,  he  didn't  write  them— fact  is,  the 
scratches  he  makes  ain't  properly  writing  at  all.  Now, 
here's  some  letters  from—" 

The  new  old  gentleman  says: 

"If  you  please,  let  me  explain.  Nobody  can  read 
my  hand  but  my  brother  there—so  he  copies  for  me. 
It's  his  hand  you've  got  there,  not  mine." 

"Well!"  says  the  lawyer,  "this  is  a  state  of  things. 
I've  got  some  of  William's  letters,  too;  so  if  you'll 
get  him  to  write  a  line  or  so  we  can  com — " 

"He  can't  write  with  his  left  hand,"  says  the  old 
gentleman.  "If  he  could  use  his  right  hand,  you 
would  see  that  he  wrote  his  own  letters  and  mine 
too.  Look  at  both,  please— they're  by  the  same 
hand." 

The  lawyer  done  it,  and  says: 

"I  believe  it's  so — and  if  it  ain't  so,  there's  a  heap 
stronger  resemblance  than  I'd  noticed  before,  any- 
way. Well,  well,  well!  I  thought  we  was  right  on 
the  track  of  a  slution,  but  it's  gone  to  grass,  partly. 
But  anyway,  one  thing  is  proved— two  ain't 

m 


MARK  TWAIN 


either  of  'em  Willises" — and  he  wagged  his  head 
towards  the  king  and  the  duke. 

Well,  what  do  you  think?  That  mule-headed  old 
fool  wouldn't  give  in  then!  Indeed  he  wouldn't. 
Said  it  warn't  no  fair  test.  Said  his  brother  William 
was  the  cussedest  joker  in  the  world,  and  hadn't  tried 
to  write — he  see  William  was  going  to  play  one  of  his 
jokes  the  minute  he  put  the  pen  to  paper.  And  so  he 
warmed  up  and  went  warbling  right  along  till  he  was 
actuly  beginning  to  believe  what  he  was  saying  him- 
self; but  pretty  soon  the  new  gentleman  broke  in,  and 
says : 

"I've  thought  of  something.  Is  there  anybody 
here  that  helped  to  lay  out  my  br — helped  to  lay  out 
the  late  Peter  Wilks  for  burying?" 

"Yes,"  says  somebody,  "me  and  Ab  Turner  done 
it.    We're  both  here." 

Then  the  old  man  turns  toward  the  king,  and 
says: 

"Peraps  this  gentleman  can  tell  me  what  was 
tattooed  on  his  breast?" 

Blamed  if  the  king  didn't  have  to  brace  up  mighty 
quick,  or  he'd  'a'  squshed  down  like  a  bluff  bank  that 
the  river  has  cut  under,  it  took  him  so  sudden ;  and, 
mind  you,  it  was  a  thing  that  was  calculated  to  make 
most  anybody  sqush  to  get  fetched  such  a  solid  one  as 
that  without  any  notice,  because  how  was  he  going  to 
know  what  was  tattooed  on  the  man  ?  He  whitened  a 
little;  he  couldn't  help  it;  and  it  was  mighty  still  in 
there,  and  everybody  bending  a  little  forwards  and 
gazing  at  him.  Says  I  to  myself,  Now  he'll  throw  up 
the  sponge— there  ain't  no  more  use.    Well,  did  he? 

278 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


A  body  can't  hardly  believe  it,  but  he  didn't.  I 
reckon  he  thought  he'd  keep  the  thing  up  till  he  tired 
them  people  out,  so  they'd  thin  out,  and  him  and  the 
duke  could  break  loose  and  get  away.  Anyway,  he 
set  there,  and  pretty  soon  he  begun  to  smile,  and  says : 

"Mf!  It's  a  very  tough  question,  ain't  it!  Yes, 
sir,  I  k'n  tell  you  what's  tattooed  on  his  breast.  It's 
jest  a  small,  thin,  blue  arrow — that's  what  it  is;  and 
if  you  don't  look  clost,  you  can't  see  it.  Now  what 
do  you  say — hey?" 

Well,  I  never  see  anything  like  that  old  blister  for 
clean  out-and-out  cheek. 

The  new  old  gentleman  turns  brisk  towards  Ab 
Turner  and  his  pard,  and  his  eye  lights  up  like  he 
judged  he'd  got  the  king  this  time,  and  says: 

"There — you've  heard  what  he  said!  Was  there 
any  such  mark  on  Peter  Wilks's  breast?" 

Both  oi  them  spoke  up  and  says: 

"We  didn't  see  no  such  mark." 

"Good!"  says  the  old  gentleman.  "Now,  what 
you  did  see  on  his  breast  was  a  small  dim  P,  and  a  B 
(which  is  an  initial  he  dropped  when  he  was  young)v 
and  a  W,  and  dashes  between  them,  so:  P — B — 
W" — and  he  marked  them  that  way  on  a  piece  of 
paper.    "Come,  ain't  that  what  you  saw?" 

Both  of  them  spoke  up  again,  and  says: 

"No,  we  didfCt.    We  never  seen  any  marks  at  all." 

Well,  everybody  was  in  a  state  of  mind  now,  and 
they  sings  out : 

"The  whole  hilirC  of  'm  's  frauds!  Le's  duck 
*em!  le's  drown  'em!  le's  ride  'em  on  a  rail!"  and 
everybody  was  whooping  at  once,  and  there  was  a  rat- 

279 


MARK  TWAIN 


tling  powwow.  But  the  lawyer  he  jumps  on  the 
table  and  yells,  and  says: 

i  '  Gentlemen — gentlemen!  Hear  me  just  a  word. — 
just  a  single  word — if  you  please  !  There's  one  way 
yet — let's  go  and  dig  up  the  corpse  and  look." 

That  took  them. 

"  Hooray !"  they  all  shouted,  and  was  starting  right 
off;  but  the  lawyer  and  the  doctor  sung  out: 

* 4  Hold  on,  hold  on!  Collar  all  these  four  men  and 
the  boy,  and  fetch  them  along,  too!" 

"We'll  do  it!"  they  all  shouted;  "and  if  we  don't 
find  them  marks  we'll  lynch  the  whole  gang!" 

I  was  scared,  now,  I  tell  you.  But  there  warn't  no 
getting  away,  you  know.  They  gripped  us  all,  and 
marched  us  right  along,  straight  for  the  graveyard, 
which  was  a  mile  and  a  half  down  the  river,  and  the 
whole  town  at  our  heels,  for  we  made  noise  enough, 
and  it  was  only  nine  in  the  evening. 

As  we  went  by  our  house  I  wished  I  hadn't  sent 
Mary  Jane  out  of  town;  because  now  if  I  could  tip 
her  the  wink  she'd  light  out  and  save  me,  and  blow  on 
our  dead-beats. 

Well,  we  swarmed  along  down  the  river  road,  just 
carrying  on  like  wildcats;  and  to  make  it  more  scary 
the  sky  was  darking  up,  and  the  lightning  beginning 
to  wink  and  flitter,  and  the  wind  to  shiver  amongst 
the  leaves.  This  was  the  most  awful  trouble  and  most 
dangersome  I  ever  was  in;  and  I  was  kinder  stunned; 
everything  was  going  so  different  from  what  I  had 
allowed  for;  stead  of  being  fixed  so  I  could  take  my 
own  time  if  I  wanted  to,  and  see  all  the  fun,  and  have 
Mary  Jane  at  my  back  to  save  me  and  set  me  free 

280 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


when  the  close-fit  come,  here  was  nothing  in  the 
world  betwixt  me  and  sudden  death  but  just  them 
tattoo-marks.    If  they  didn't  find  them — 

I  couldn't  bear  to  think  about  it;  and  yet,  some- 
how, I  couldn't  think  about  nothing  else.  It  got 
darker  and  darker,  and  it  was  a  beautiful  time  to  give 
the  crowd  the  slip;  but  that  big  husky  had  me  by  the 
wrist — -Hines — and  a  body  might  as  well  try  to  give 
Goliar  the  slip.  He  dragged  me  right  along,  he  was  so 
excited,  and  I  had  to  run  to  keep  up. 

When  they  got  there  they  swarmed  into  the  grave- 
yard and  washed  over  it  like  an  overflow.  And  when 
they  got  to  the  grave  they  found  they  had  about  a 
hundred  times  as  many  shovels  as  they  wanted,  but 
nobody  hadn't  thought  to  fetch  a  lantern.  But  they 
sailed  into  digging  anyway  by  the  flicker  of  the  light- 
ning, and  sent  a  man  to  the  nearest  house,  a  half  a 
mile  off,  to  borrow  one. 

So  they  dug  and  dug  like  everything;  and  it  got 
awful  dark,  and  the  rain  started,  and  the  wind 
swished  and  swushed  along,  and  the  lightning  come 
brisker  and  brisker,  and  the  thunder  boomed;  but 
them  people  never  took  no  notice  of  it,  they  was  so 
full  of  this  business;  and  one  minute  you  could  see 
everything  and  every  face  in  that  big  crowd,  and  the 
shovelfuls  of  dirt  sailing  up  out  of  the  grave,  and  the 
next  second  the  dark  wiped  it  all  out,  and  you 
couldn't  see  nothing  at  all. 

At  last  they  got  out  the  coffin  and  begun  to  un- 
screw the  lid,  and  then  such  another  crowding  and 
shouldering  and  shoving  as  there  was,  to  scrouge  in 
and  get  a  sight,  you  never  see;  and  in  the  dark,  that 

281 


MARK  TWAIN 


way,  it  was  awful.  Hines  he  hurt  my  wrist  dread- 
ful pulling  and  tugging  so,  and  I  reckon  he  clean 
forgot  I  was  in  the  world,  he  was  so  excited  and 
panting. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  lightning  let  go  a  perfect  sluice 
of  white  glare,  and  somebody  sings  out: 

"By  the  living  jingo,  here's  the  bag  of  gold  on  his 
breast!" 

Hines  let  out  a  whoop,  like  everybody  else,  and 
dropped  my  wrist  and  give  a  big  surge  to  bust  his 
way  in  and  get  a  look,  and  the  way  I  lit  out  and 
shinned  for  the  road  in  the  dark  there  ain't  nobody 
can  tell.  > 

I  had  the  road  all  to  myself.,  and  I  fairly  flew — - 
leastways,  I  had  it  all  to  myself  except  the  solid  dark, 
and  the  now-and-then  glares,  and  the  buzzing  of  the 
rain,  and  the  thrashing  of  the  wind,  and  the  splitting 
of  the  thunder;  and  sure  as  you  are  born  I  did  clip  it 
along! 

When  I  struck  the  town  I  see  there  warn't  nobody 
out  in  the  storm,  so  I  never  hunted  for  no  back  streets, 
but  humped  it  straight  through  the  main  one;  and 
when  I  begun  to  get  towards  our  house  I  aimed  my 
eye  and  set  it.  No  light  there;  the  house  all  dark— 
which  made  me  feel  sorry  and  disappointed,  I  didn't 
know  why.  But  at  last,  just  as  I  was  sailing  by,  flash 
comes  the  light  in  Mary  Jane's  window!  and  my 
heart  swelled  up  sudden,  like  to  bust ;  and  the  same 
second  the  house  and  all  was  behind  me  in  the  dark, 
and  wasn't  ever  going  to  be  before  me  no  more  in  this 
world.  She  was  the  best  girl  I  ever  see,  and  had  the 
most  sand. 

282 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


The  minute  I  was  far  enough  above  the  town  to  see 
I  could  make  the  towhead,  I  begun  to  look  sharp  for 
a  boat  to  borrow,  and  the  first  time  the  lightning 
showed  me  one  that  wasn't  chained  I  snatched  it  and 
shoved.  It  was  a  canoe,  and  warn't  fastened  with 
nothing  but  a  rope.  The  towhead  was  a  rattling  big 
distance  off,  away  out  there  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
but  I  didn't  lose  no  time ;  and  when  I  struck  the  raft 
at  last  I  was  so  fagged  I  would  'a'  just  laid  down  to 
blow  and  gasp  if  I  could  afforded  it.  But  I  didn't. 
As  I  sprung  aboard  I  sung  out : 

"Out  with  you,  Jim,  and  set  her  loose!  Glory  be 
to  goodness,  we're  shut  of  them!" 

Jim  lit  out,  and  was  a-coming  for  me  with  both  arms 
spread,  he  was  so  full  of  joy;  but  when  I  glimpsed 
him  in  the  lightning  my  heart  shot  up  in  my  mouth 
and  I  went  overboard  backwards;  for  I  forgot  he  was 
old  King  Lear  and  a  drownded  A-rab  all  in  one,  and  it 
most  scared  the  livers  and  lights  out  of  me.  But  Jim 
fished  me  out,  and  was  going  to  hug  me  and  bless  me, 
and  so  on,  he  was  so  glad  I  was  back  and  we  was 
shut  of  the  king  and  the  duke,  but  I  says : 

1 '  Not  now ;  have  it  for  breakfast,  have  it  for  break- 
fast! Cut  loose  and  let  her  slide!" 

So  in  two  seconds  away  we  went  a-sliding  down  the 
river,  and  it  did  seem  so  good  to  be  free  again  and  all 
by  ourselves  on  the  big  river,  and  nobody  to  bother 
us.  I  had  to  skip  around  a  bit,  and  jump  up  and 
crack  my  heels  a  few  times — I  couldn't  help  it ;  but 
about  the  third  crack  I  noticed  a  sound  that  I  knowed 
mighty  well,  and  held  my  breath  and  listened  and 
waited;  and  sure  enough,  when  the  next  flash  busted 


MARK  TWAIN 

out  over  the  water,  here  they  come! — and  just  a- 
laying  to  their  oars  and  making  their  skiff  hum!  It 
was  the  king  and  the  duke. 

So  I  wilted  right  down  onto  the  planks  then,  and 
give  up;  and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  crying, 


284 


CHAPTER  XXX 


WHEN  they  got  aboard  the  king  went  for  me, 
and  shook  me  by  the  collar,  and  says: 
"Tryin'  to  give  us  the  slip,  was  ye,  you  pup! 
Tired  of  our  company,  hey?" 
I  says: 

"No,  your  majesty.,  we  warn.' t— please  don't,  your 
majesty!" 

"  Quick,  then,  and  tell  us  what  was  your  idea,  or 
I'll  shake  the  insides  out  o*  you!" 

"Honest,  I'll  tell  you  everything  just  as  it  hap- 
pened, your  majesty.  The  man  that  had  a-holt  of  me 
was  very  good  to  me,  and  kept  saying  he  had  a  boy 
about  as  big  as  me  that  died  last  year,  and  he  was 
sorry  to  see  a  boy  in  such  a  dangerous  fix;  and  when 
they  was  all  took  by  surprise  by  finding  the  gold,  and 
made  a  rush  for  the  coffin,  he  lets  go  of  me  and  whis- 
pers, 'Heel  it  now,  or  they'll  hang  ye,  sure!'  and  I 
lit  out.  It  didn't  seem  no  good  for  me  to  stay — I 
couldn't  do  nothing,  and  I  didn't  want  to  be  hung  if 
I  could  get  away.  So  I  never  stopped  running  till  I 
found  the  canoe;  and  when  I  got  here  I  told  Jim  to 
hurry,  or  they'd  catch  me  and  hang  me  yet,  and  said 
I  was  afeard  you  and  the  duke  wasn't  alive  now,  and 
I  was  awful  sorry,  and  so  was  Jim,  and  was  awful  glad 
when  we  see  you  coming ;  you  may  ask  Jim  if  I  didn't/* 


MARK  TWAIN 


Jim  said  it  was  so;  and  the  king  told  him  to  shut 
up,  and  said,  "Oh,  yes,  it's  mighty  likely !"  and 
shook  me  up  again,  and  said  he  reckoned  he'd  drownd 
me.  But  the  duke  says : 

1  *  Leggo  the  boy,  you  old  idiot !  Would  you  'a'  done 
any  different  ?  Did  you  inquire  around  for  him  when 
you  got  loose?  I  don't  remember  it." 

So  the  king  let  go  of  me,  and  begun  to  cuss  that 
town  and  everybody  in  it.   But  the  duke  says: 

"You  better  a  blame'  sight  give  yourself  a  good 
cussing,  for  you're  the  one  that's  entitled  to  it  most. 
You  hain't  done  a  thing  from  the  start  that  had  any 
sense  in  it,  except  coming  out  so  cool  and  cheeky  with 
that  imaginary  blue-arrow  mark.  That  was  bright — 
it  was  right  down  bully;  and  it  was  the  thing  that 
saved  us.  For  if  it  hadn't  been  for  that  they'd  'a'  jailed 
us  till  them  Englishmen's  baggage  come — and  then — 
the  penitentiary,  you  bet !  But  that  trick  took  'em  to 
the  graveyard,  and  the  gold  done  us  a f  still  bigger 
kindness;  for  if  the  excited  fools  hadn't  let  go  all 
holts  and  made  that  rush  to  get  a  look  we'd  'a'  slept 
in  our  cravats  to-night — cravats  warranted  to  wear, 
too — longer  than  we'd  need  'em." 

They  was  still  a  minute — thinking;  then  the  king 
says,  kind  of  absent-minded  like : 

"Mf !  And  we  reckoned  the  niggers  stole  it!" 

That  made  me  squirm! 

"Yes,"  says  the  duke,  kinder  slow  and  deliberate 
and  sarcastic,  "we  did." 

After  about  a  half  a  minute  the  king  drawls  out: 
' '  Leastways,  I  did. ' ' 
The  duke  says,  the  same  way: 

286 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"On  the  contrary,  I  did." 

The  king  kind  of  ruffles  up,  and  says : 

"Looky  here,  Bilgewater,  what'r  you  referrin'  to?" 
The  duke  says,  pretty  brisk: 

"When  it  comes  to  that,  maybe  you'll  let  me  ask 
what  was  you  referring  to?" 

"Shucks !"  says  the  king,  very  sarcastic;  "but  1 
don't  know — maybe  you  was  asleep,  and  didn't  know 
what  you  was  about." 

The  duke  bristles  up  now,  and  says: 

"Oh,  let  up  on  this  cussed  nonsense;  do  you  take 
me  for  a  blame'  fool  ?  Don't  you  reckon  I  know  who 
hid  that  money  in  that  coffin?" 

"  Yes,  sir!  I  know  you  do  know,  because  you  done 
it  yourself!" 

"It's  a  lie!" — and  the  duke  went  for  him.  The 
king  sings  out : 

"Take  y'r  hands  off! — leggo  my  throat! — I  take  it 
all  back!" 

The  duke  says: 

"Well,  you  just  own  up,  first,  that  you  did  hide 
that  money  there,  intending  to  give  me  the  slip  one 
of  these  days,  and  come  back  and  dig  it  up,  and  have 
it  all  to  yourself." 

"Wait  jest  a  minute,  duke — answer  me  this  one 
question,  honest  and  fair;  if  you  didn't  put  the  money 
there,  say  it,  and  I'll  b'lieve  you,  and  take  back  every- 
thing I  said." 

"You  old  scoundrel,  I  didn't,  and  you  know  I 
didn't.  There,  now!" 

"Well,  then,  I  b'lieve  you.  But  answer  me  only 
jest  this  one  more  —  now  don't  git  mad;  didn't 

287 


MARK  TWAIN 


you  have  it  in  your  mind  to  hook  the  money  and 
hide  it?" 

The  duke  never  said  nothing  for  a  little  bit ;  then  he 

says: 

"Well,  I  don't  care  if  I  did,  I  didn't  do  it,  anyway. 
But  you  not  only  had  it  in  mind  to  do  it,  but  you 
done  it." 

"I  wisht  I  never  die  if  I  done  it,  duke,  and  that's 
honest.  I  won't  say  I  warn't  gowC  to  do  it,  because  I 
was;  but  you™I  mean  somebody — got  in  ahead  o' 
me." 

"It's  a  lie!  You  done  it,  and  you  got  to  say  you 
done  it,  or— ' 

The  king  began  to  gurgle,  and  then  he  gasps  out: 
'"Nough!— I  own  up!'1 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear  him  say  that ;  it  made  me 
feel  much  more  easier  than  what  I  was  feeling  before. 
So  the  duke  took  his  hands  ofl  and  says : 

"If  you  ever  deny  it  again  I'll  drown  you.  It's 
well  for  you  to  set  there  and  blubber  like  a  baby — it's 
fitten  for  you,  after  the  way  you've  acted.  I  never 
see  such  an  old  ostrich  for  wanting  to  gobble  every- 
thing— and  I  a-trusting  you  all  the  time,  like  you 
was  my  own  father.  You  ought  to  been  ashamed  of 
yourself  to  stand  by  and  hear  it  saddled  on  to  a  lot 
of  poor  niggers,  and  you  never  say  a  word  for  'em. 
It  makes  me  feel  ridiculous  to  think  I  was  soft  enough 
to  believe  that  rubbage.  Cuss  you,  I  can  see  now 
why  you  was  so  anxious  to  make  up  the  deffisit — you 
wanted  to  get  what  money  I'd  got  out  of  the  'None- 
such* and  one  thing  or  another,  and  scoop  it  alU" 

The  king  says,  timid,  and  still  a-snuffling: 

283 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

"Why,  duke,  it  was  you  that  said  make  up  the 
deffersit;  it  warn't  me." 

"Dry  up!  I  don't  want  to  hear  no  more  out  of 
you!"  says  the  duke.  4 'And  now  you  see  what  you 
got  by  it.  They've  got  all  their  own  money  back, 
and  all  of  ourn  but  a  shekel  or  two  besides.  G'long 
to  bed,  and  don't  you  deffersit  me  no  more  deffersits, 
long's  you  live!" 

So  the  king  sneaked  into  the  wigwam  and  took  to 
his  bottle  for  comfort,  and  before  long  the  duke 
tackled  his  bottle;  and  so  in  about  a  half  an  hour 
they  was  as  thick  as  thieves  again,  and  the  tighter 
they  got  the  lovinger  they  got,  and  went  off  a-snoring 
in  each  other's  arms.  They  both  got  powerful  mel- 
low, but  I  noticed  the  king  didn't  get  mellow  enough 
to  forget  to  remember  to  not  deny  about  hiding  the 
money-bag  again.  That  made  me  feel  easy  and 
satisfied.  Of  course  when  they  got  to  snoring  we  had 
a  long  gabble,  and  I  told  Jim  everything. 


289 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


WE  dasn't  stop  again  at  any  town  for  days  and 
days ;  kept  right  along  down  the  river.  We  was 
down  south  in  the  warm  weather  now,  and  a  mighty 
long  ways  from  home.  We  begun  to  come  to  trees 
with  Spanish  moss  on  them,  hanging  down  from  the 
limbs  like  long,  gray  beards.  It  was  the  first  I  ever 
see  it  growing,  and  it  made  the  woods  look  solemn 
and  dismal.  So  now  the  frauds  reckoned  they  was 
out  of  danger,  and  they  begun  to  work  the  villages 
again. 

First  they  done  a  lecture  on  temperance;  but  they 
didn't  make  enough  for  them  both  to  get  drunk  on. 
Then  in  another  village  they  started  a  dancing- 
school;  but  they  didn't  know  no  more  how  to  dance 
than  a  kangaroo  does;  so  the  first  prance  they  made 
the  general  public  jumped  in  and  pranced  them  out 
of  town.  Another  time  they  tried  to  go  at  yellocu- 
tion;  but  they  didn't  yellocute  long  till  the  audience 
got  up  and  give  them  a  solid  good  cussing,  and  made 
them  skip  out.  They  tackled  missionarying,  and 
mesmerizing,  and  doctoring,  and  telling  fortunes,  and 
a  little  of  everything;  but  they  couldn't  seem  to  have 
no  luck.  So  at  last  they  got  just  about  dead  broke, 
and  laid  around  the  raft  as  she  floated  along,  think- 
ing and  thinking,  and  never  saying  nothing,  by  the 

2.90 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


half  a  day  at  a  time,  and  dreadful  blue  and  des- 
perate. 

And  at  last  they  took  a  change  and  begun  to  lay 
their  heads  together  in  the  wigwam  and  talk  low  and 
confidential  two  or  three  hours  at  a  time.  Jim  and 
me  got  uneasy.  We  didn't  like  the  look  of  it.  We 
judged  they  was  studying  up  some  kind  of  worse 
deviltry  than  ever.  We  turned  it  over  and  over, 
and  at  last  we  made  up  our  minds  they  was  going  to 
break  into  somebody's  house  or  store,  or  was  going 
into  the  counterfeit-money  business,  or  something. 
So  then  we  was  pretty  scared,  and  made  up  an 
agreement  that  we  wouldn't  have  nothing  in  the 
world  to  do  with  such  actions,  and  if  we  ever  got  the 
least  show  we  would  give  them  the  cold  shake  and 
clear  out  and  leave  them  behind.  Well,  early  one 
morning  we  hid  the  raft  in  a  good,  safe  place  about 
two  mile  below  a  little  bit  of  a  shabby  village  named 
Pikesville,  and  the  king  he  went  ashore  and  told  us 
all  to  stay  hid  whilst  he  went  up  to  town  and  smelt 
around  to  see  if  anybody  had  got  any  wind  of  the 
"Royal  Nonesuch"  there  yet.  ("House  to  rob,  you 
mean''  says  I  to  myself;  "and  when  you  get  through 
robbing  it  you'll  come  back  here  and  wonder  what 
has  become  of  me  and  Jim  and  the  raft — and  you'll 
have  to  take  it  out  in  wondering.")  And  he  said  if 
he  warn't  back  by  midday  the  duke  and  me  would 
know  it  was  all  right,  and  we  was  to  come  along. 

So  we  stayed  where  we  was.  The  duke  he  fretted 
and  sweated  around,  and  was  in  a  mighty  sour  way. 
He  scolded  us  for  everything,  and  we  couldn't  seem 
to  do  nothing  right;  he  found  fault  with  every  little 

291 


MARK  TWAIN 


thing.  Something  was  a-brewing,  sure.  I  was  good 
and  glad  when  midday  come  and  no  king;  we  could 
have  a  change,  anyway—and  maybe  a  chance  for 
the  chance  on  top  of  it.  So  me  and  the  duke  went 
up  to  the  village,  and  hunted  around  there  for  the 
king,  and  by  and  by  we  found  him  in  the  back  room 
of  a  little  low  doggery,  very  tight,  and  a  lot  of 
loafers  bullyragging  him  for  sport,  and  he  a-cussing 
and  a=threatening  with  all  his  might,  and  so  tight 
he  couldn't  walk,  and  couldn't  do  nothing  to  them. 
The  duke  he  begun  to  abuse  him  for  an  old  fool,  and 
the  king  begun  to  sass  back,  and  the  minute  they  was 
fairly  at  it  I  lit  out  and  shook  the  reefs  out  of  my 
hind  legs,  and  spun  down  the  river  road  like  a  deer, 
for  I  see  our  chance;  and  I  made  up  my  mind  that  it 
would  be  a  long  day  before  they  ever  see  me  and  Jim 
again.  I  got  down  there  all  out  of  breath  but  loaded 
up  with  joy,  and  sung  out: 

"Set  her  loose,  Jim;  we're  all  right  now!" 

But  there  warn't  no  answer,  and  nobody  come  cut 
of  the  wigwam.  Jim  was  gone!  I  set  up  a  shout-  - 
and  then  another— and  then  another  one;  and  run 
this  way  and  that  in  the  woods,  whooping  and 
screeching;  but  it  warn't  no  use — old  Jim  was  gone. 
Then  I  set  down  and  cried ;  I  couldn't  help  it.  But 
I  couldn't  set  still  long.  Pretty  soon  I  went  out  on 
the  road,  trying  to  think  what  I  better  do,  and  I  run 
across  a  boy  walking,  and  asked  him  if  he'd  seen  a 
strange  nigger  dressed  so  and  so,  and  he  says: 

"Yes." 

"Whereabouts?"  says  I. 

"Down  to  Silas  Phelps's  place?  two  mile  below 

ZQ2 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


aere.  He's  a  runaway  nigger,  and  they've  got  him. 
Was  you  looking  for  him?" 

"You  bet  I  ain't!  I  run  across  him  in  the  woods 
about  an  hour  or  two  ago,  and  he  said  if  I  hollered 
he'd  cut  my  livers  out — and  told  me  to  lay  down  and 
stay  where  I  was;  and  I  done  it.  Been  there  ever 
since;  afeard  to  come  out." 

"Well,"  he  says,  "you  needn't  be  afeard  no  more, 
becuz  they've  got  him.  He  run  off  f'm  down  South, 
som'ers." 

"It's  a  good  job  they  got  him." 

"Well,  I  reckon!  There's  two  hundred  dollars' 
reward  on  him.  It's  like  picking  up  money  out'n  the 
road." 

"Yes,  it  is— and  I  could  'a'  had  it  if  I'd  been  big 
enough;  I  see  him  first.   Who  nailed  him?" 

"It  was  an  old  fellow— a  stranger— and  he  sold 
out  his  chance  in  him  for  forty  dollars,  becuz  he's  got 
to  go  up  the  river  and  can't  wait.  Think  o'  that, 
now!  You  bet  Td  wait,  if  it  was  seven  year." 

"That's  me,  every  time,"  says  I.  "But  maybe  his 
chance  ain't  worth  no  more  than  that,  if  he'll  sell 
it  so  cheap.  Maybe  there's  something  ain't  straight 
about  it." 

"But  it  is,  though—straight  as  a  string.  I  see  the 
handbill  myself.  It  tells  all  about  him,  to  a  dot- 
paints  him  like  a  picture,  and  tells  the  plantation  he's 
frum,  below  Newvleans.  No-sirree-fofr,  they  ain't  no 
trouble  'bout  that  speculation,  you  bet  you.  Say, 
gimme  a  chaw  tobacker,  won't  ye?" 

I  didn't  have  none,  so  he  left.  I  went  to  the  raft, 
and  set  down  in  the  wigwam  to  think.  But  I  couldn't 

293 


MARK  TWAIN 


come  to  nothing.  I  thought  till  I  wore  my  head  sore, 
but  I  couldn't  see  no  way  out  of  the  trouble.  Aftel 
all  this  long  journey,  and  after  all  we'd  done  for  them 
scoundrels,  here  it  was  all  come  to  nothing,  every- 
thing all  busted  up  and  ruined,  because  they  could 
have  the  heart  to  serve  Jim  such  a  trick  as  that,  and 
make  him  a  slave  again  all  his  life,  and  amongst 
strangers,  too,  for  forty  dirty  dollars. 

Once  I  said  to  myself  it  would  be  a  thousand  times 
better  for  Jim  to  be  a  slave  at  home  where  his  family 
was,  as  long  as  he'd  got  to  be  a  slave,  and  so  I'd  better 
write  a  letter  to  Tom  Sawyer  and  tell  him  to  tell 
Miss-Watson  where  he  was.  But  I  soon  give  up  that 
notion  for  two  things:  she'd  be  mad  and  disgusted 
at  his  rascality  and  ungratefulness  for  leaving  her, 
and  so  she'd  sell  him  straight  down  the  river  again; 
and  if  she  didn't,  everybody  naturally  despises  an 
ungrateful  nigger,  and  they'd  make  Jim  feel  it  all 
the  time,  and  so  he'd  feel  ornery  and  disgraced.  And 
then  think  of  me!  It  would  get  all  around  that  Huck 
Finn  helped  a  nigger  to  get  his  freedom;  and  if  I 
was  ever  to  see  anybody  from  that  town  again  I'd 
be  ready  to  get  down  and  lick  his  boots  for  shame. 
That's  just  the  way :  a  person  does  a  low-down  thing, 
and  then  he  don't  want  to  take  no  consequences  of  it. 
Thinks  as  long  as  he  can  hide,  it  ain't  no  disgrace. 
That  was  my  fix  exactly.  The  more  I  studied  about 
this  the  more  my  conscience  went  to  grinding  me, 
and  the  more  wicked  and  low-down  and  ornery  I 
got  to  feeling.  And  at  last,  when  it  hit  me  all  of  a 
sudden  that  here  was  the  plain  hand  of  Providence 
slapping  me  in  the  face  and  letting  me  know  my  wick- 

294 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


edness  was  being  watched  all  the  time  from  up  there 
in  heaven,  whilst  I  was  stealing  a  poor  old  woman's 
nigger  that  hadn't  ever  done  me  no  harm,  and  now 
was  showing  me  there's  One  that's  always  on  the 
lookout,  and  ain't  a-going  to  allow  no  such  miserable 
doings  to  go  only  just  so  fur  and  no  further,  I  most 
dropped  in  my  tracks  I  was  so  scared,  Well,  I  tried 
the  best  I  could  to  kinder  soften  it  up  somehow  for 
inyself  by  saying  I  was  brung  up  wicked,  and  so  I 
warn't  so  much  to  blame;  but  something  inside  of 
me  kept  saying,  * 1  There  was  the  Sunday-school,  you 
could  'a'  gone  to  it;  and  if  you'd  'a'  done  it  they'd 
'a'  learnt  you  there  that  people  that  acts  as  I'd  been 
acting  r.bout  that  nigger  goes  to  everlasting  fire." 

It  made  me  shiver.  And  I  about  made  up  my 
mind  to  pray,  and  see  if  I  couldn't  try  to  quit  being 
the  kind  of  a  boy  I  was  and  be  better.  So  I  kneeled 
down.  But  the  words  wouldn't  come.  Why  wouldn't 
they?  It  warn't  no  use  to  try  and  hide  it  from  Him. 
Nor  from  me,  neither.  I  knowed  very  well  why  they 
wouldn't  come.  It  was  because  my  heart  warn't 
right;  it  was  because  I  warn't  square;  it  was  because 
I  was  playing  double.  I  was  letting  on  to  give  up 
sin,  but  away  inside  of  me  I  was  holding  on  to  the 
biggest  one  of  all.  I  was  trying  to  make  my  mouth 
say  I  would  do  the  right  thing  and  the  clean  thing, 
and  go  and  write  to  that  nigger's  owner  and  tell 
where  he  was ;  but  deep  down  in  me  I  knowed  it  was 
a  lie,  and  He  knowed  it.  You  can't  pray  a  lie — I  found, 
that  out. 

So  I  was  full  of  trouble,  full  as  I  could  be;  and 
didn't  know  what  to  do.  At  last  I  had  an  idea;  and 

295 


MARK  TWAIN 


I  says,  I'll  go  and  write  the  letter— and  then  see  if  1 
can  pray.  Why,  it  was  astonishing,  the  way  I  felt 
as  light  as  a  feather  right  straight  off,  and  my  troubles 
all  gone.  So  I  got  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  pencil,  all 
glad  and  excited,  and  set  down  and  wrote: 

Miss  Watson,  your  runaway  nigger  Jim  is  down  here  two 
mile  below  Pikesville,  and  Mr.  Phelps  has  got  him  and  he  will 
give  him  up  for  the  reward  if  you  send.  Huck  Finn. 

I  felt  good  and  all  washed  clean  of  sin  for  the  first 
time  I  had  ever  felt  so  in  my  life,  and  I  knowed  I 
could  pray  now.  But  I  didn't  do  it  straight  off,  but 
laid  the  paper  down  and  set  there  thinking — thinking 
how  good  it  was  all  this  happened  so,  and  how  near  I 
come  to  being  lost  and  going  to  hell.  And  went  on 
thinking.  And  got  to  thinking  over  our  trip  down  the 
river;  and  I  see  Jim  before  me  all  the  time:  in  the 
day  and  in  the  night-time,  sometimes  moonlight, 
sometimes  storms,  and  we  a-floating  along,  talking 
and  singing  and  laughing,  But  somehow  I  couldn't 
seem  to  strike  no  places  to  harden  me  against  him, 
but  only  the  other  kind.  I'd  see  him  standing  my 
watch  on  top  of  his'n,  'stead  of  calling  me,  so  I  could 
go  on  sleeping ;  and  see  him  how  glad  he  was  when  I 
come  back  out  of  the  fog;  and  when  I  come  to  him 
again  in  the  swamp,  up  there  where  the  feud  was; 
and  such-like  times ;  and  would  always  call  me  honey, 
and  pet  me,  and  do  everything  he  could  think  of  for 
me,  and  how  good  he  always  was;  and  at  last  I 
struck  the  time  I  saved  him  by  telling  the  men  we 
had  smallpox  aboard,  and  he  was  so  grateful,  and 
said  I  was  the  best  friend  old  Jim  ever  had  in  the 

2Q6 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


world,  and  the  only  one  he's  got  now;  and  then  I 
happened  to  look  around  and  see  that  paper. 

It  was  a  close  place.  I  took  it  up,  and  held  it  in 
my  hand.  I  was  a- trembling,  because  I'd  got  to 
decide,  forever,  betwixt  two  things,  and  I  knowed 
it.  I  studied  a  minute,  sort  of  holding  my  breath, 
and  then  says  to  myself: 

"All  right,  then,  I'll  go  to  hell"— and  tore  it  up. 

It  was  awful  thoughts  and  awful  words,  but  they 
was  said.  And  I  let  them  stay  said;  and  never 
thought  no  more  about  reforming.  I  shoved  the 
whole  thing  out  of  my  head,  and  said  I  would  take 
up  wickedness  again,  which  was  in  my  line,  being 
brung  up  to  it,  and  the  other  warn't.  And  for  a 
starter  I  would  go  to  work  and  steal  Jim  out  of 
slavery  again;  and  if  I  could  think  up  anything 
worse,  I  would  do  that,  too;  because  as  long  as  I 
was  in,  and  in  for  good,  I  might  as  well  go  the 
whole  hog. 

Then  I  set  to  thinking  over  how  to  get  at  it,  and 
turned  over  some  considerable  many  ways  in  my 
mind;  and  at  last  fixed  up  a  plan  that  suited  me. 
So  then  I  took  the  bearings  of  a  woody  island  that 
was  down  the  river  a  piece,  and  as  soon  as  it  was 
fairly  dark  I  crept  out  with  my  raft  and  went  for 
it,  and  hid  it  there,  and  then  turned  in.  I  slept  the 
night  through,  and  got  up  before  it  was  light,  and 
had  my  breakfast,  and  put  on  my  store  clothes,  and 
tied  up  some  others  and  one  thing  or  another  in  a 
bundle,  and  took  the  canoe  and  cleared  for  shore, 
I  landed  below  where  I  judged  was  Phelps's  place, 
and  hid  my  bundle  in  the  woods,  and  then  filled  up 

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MARK  TWAIN 

the  canoe  with  water,  and  loaded  rocks  into  her  and 
sunk  her  where  I  could  find  her  again  when  I  wanted 
her,  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below  a  little  steam- 
sawmill  that  was  on  the  bank. 

Then  I  struck  up  the  road,  and  when  I  passed  the 
mill  I  see  a  sign  on  it,  ' 1  Phelps's  Sawmill,"  and  when 
I  come  to  the  farm-houses,  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  further  along,  I  kept  my  eyes  peeled,  but 
didn't  see  nobody  around,  though  it  was  good  day- 
light now.  But  I  didn't  mind,  because  I  didn't  want- 
to  see  nobody  just  yet — I  only  wanted  to  get  the  lay 
of  the  land.  According  to  my  plan,  I  was  going 
to  turn  up  there  from  the  village,  not  from  below. 
So  I  just  took  a  look,  and  shoved  along,  straight  for 
town.  Well,  the  very  first  man  I  see  when  I  got 
there  was  the  duke.  He  was  sticking  up  a  bill  for 
the  " Royal  Nonesuch" — three-night  performance — 
like  that  other  time.  They  had  the  cheek,  them 
frauds!  I  was  right  on  him  before  I  could  shirk. 
He  looked  astonished,  and  says: 

"Hel-fo/  Where'd  you  come  from?"  Then  he 
says,  kind  of  glad  and  eager,  "Where's  the  raft? — 
got  her  in  a  good  place?" 

I  says: 

"Why,  that's  just  what  I  was  going  to  ask  your 
grace." 

Then  he  didn't  look  so  joyful,  and  says: 
"What  was  your  idea  for  asking  me?"  he  says. 
"Well,"  I  says,  "when  I  see  the  king  in  that 
doggery  yesterday  I  says  to  myself,  we  can't  get  him 
home  for  hours,  till  he's  soberer;  so  I  went  a-loafing 
around  town  to  put  in  the  time  and  wait.    A  man 

298 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


up  and  offered  me  ten  cents  to  help  him  pull  a  skiff 
over  the  river  and  back  to  fetch  a  sheep,  and  so  I 
went  along;  but  when  we  was  dragging  him  to  the 
boat,  and  the  man  left  me  a-holt  of  the  rope  and 
went  behind  him  to  shove  him  along,  he  was  too 
strong  for  me  and  jerked  loose  and  run,  and  we  after 
him.  We  didn't  have  no  dog,  and  so  we  had  to 
chase  him  all  over  the  country  till  we  tired  him  out. 
We  never  got  him  till  dark;  then  we  fetched  him 
over,  and  I  started  down  for  the  raft.  When  I  got 
there  and  see  it  was  gone,  I  says  to  myself,  'They've 
got  into  trouble  and  had  to  leave;  and  they've  took 
my  nigger,  which  is  the  only  nigger  I've  got  in  the 
world,  and  now  I'm  in  a  strange  country,  and  ain't 
got  no  property  no  more,  nor  nothing,  and  no  way 
to  make  my  living' ;  so  I  set  down  and  cried.  I  slept 
in  the  woods  all  night.  But  what  did  become  of  the 
raft,  then? — and  Jim — poor  Jim!" 

"  Blamed  if  I  know — that  is,  what's  become  of  the 
raft.  That  old  fool  had  made  a  trade  and  got  forty 
dollars,  and  when  we  found  nim  in  the  doggery  the 
loafers  had  matched  half-dollars  with  him  and  got 
every  cent  but  what  he'd  spent  for  whisky;  and  when 
I  got  him  home  late  last  night  and  found  the  raft 
gone,  we  said,  'That  little  rascal  has  stole  our  raft 
and  shook  us,  and  run  off  down  the  river.'" 

"I  wouldn't  shake  my  nigger,  would  I? — the  only 
nigger  I  had  in  the  world,  and  the  only  property." 

"We  never  thought  of  that.  Fact  is,  I  reckon 
we'd  come  to  consider  him  our  nigger;  yes,  we  did 
consider  him  so — goodness  knows  we  had  trouble 
enough  for  him.    So  when  we  see  the  raft  was  gone 

2QQ 


MARK  TWAIN 


and  we  fiat  broke,  there  warn't  anything  for  it  but 
to  try  the  'Royal  Nonesuch'  another  shake.  And 
I've  pegged  along  ever  since,  dry  as  a  powder- 
horn.    Where's  that  ten  cents?   Give  it  here." 

I  had  considerable  money,  so  I  give  him  ten  cents, 
but  begged  him  to  spend  it  for  something  to  eat,  and 
give  me  some,  because  it  was  all  the  money  I  had, 
and  I  hadn't  had  nothing  to  eat  since  yesterday. 
He  never  said  nothing.  The  next  minute  he  whirls 
on  me  and  says: 

"Do  you  reckon  that  nigger  would  blow  on  us? 
We'd  skin  him  if  he  done  that!" 

"How  can  he  blow?    Hain't  he  run  off?" 

"No!  That  old  fool  sold  him,  and  never  divided 
with  me,  and  the  money's  gone." 

"Sold  him?"  I  says,  and  begun  to  cry;  "why,  he 
was  my  nigger,  and  that  was  my  money.  Where  is 
he?— -I  want  my  nigger." 

"Well,  you  can't  get  your  nigger,  that's  all — so 
dry  up  your  blubbering.  Looky  here — do  you  think 
you'd  venture  to  blow  on  us?  Blamed  if  I  think  I'd 
trust  you.    Why,  if  you  was  to  blow  on  us — " 

He  stopped,  but  I  never  see  the  duke  look  so  ugly 
out  of  his  eyes  before.  I  went  on  a-whimpering,  and 
says: 

"I  don't  want  to  blow  on  nobody;  and  I  ain't  got 
no  time  to  blow,  nohow;  I  got  to  turn  out  and  find 

my  nigger." 

He  looked  kinder  bothered,  and  stood  there  with 
his  bills  fluttering  on  his  arm,  thinking,  and  wrink- 
ling up  his  forehead.    At  last  he  says : 

"I'll  tell  you  something,  We  got  to  be  here  three 
300 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


days.  If  you'll  promise  you  won't  blow,  and  won't 
let  the  nigger  blow,  I'll  tell  you  where  to  find  him." 

So  I  promised,  and  he  says : 

"A  farmer  by  the  name  of  Silas  Ph — "  and  then 
he  stopped.  You  see,  he  started  to  tell  me  the 
truth;  but  when  he  stopped  that  way,  and  begun  to 
study  and  think  again,  I  reckoned  he  was  changing 
his  mind.  And  so  he  was.  He  wouldn't  trust  me; 
he  wanted  to  make  sure  of  having  me  out  of  the  way 
the  whole  three  days.    So  pretty  soon  he  says: 

"The  man  that  bought  him  is  named  Abram 
Foster — Abram  G.  Foster — and  he  lives  forty  mile 
back  here  in  the  country,  on  the  road  to  Lafayette." 

"All  right,"  I  says,  "I  can  walk  it  in  three  days. 
And  111  start  this  very  afternoon." 

"No  you  won't,  you'll  start  now;  and  don't  you 
lose  any  time  about  it,  neither,  nor  do  any  gabbling 
by  the  way.  Just  keep  a  tight  tongue  in  your  head 
and  move  right  along,  and  then  you  won't  get  into 
trouble  with  us,  d'ye  hear?" 

That  was  the  order  I  wanted,  and  that  was  the  one 
I  played  for.  I  wanted  to  be  left  free  to  work  my  plans. 

"So  clear  out,"  he  says;  "and  you  can  tell  Mr. 
Foster  whatever  you  want  to.  Maybe  you  can  get 
him  to  believe  that  Jim  is  your  nigger — some  idiots 
don't  require  documents — leastways  I've  heard 
there's  such  down  South  here.  And  when  you  tell 
him  the  handbill  and  the  reward's  bogus,  maybe  he'll 
believe  you  when  you  explain  to  him  what  the  idea 
was  for  getting  'em  out.  Go  'long  now,  and  tell  him 
anything  you  want  to ;  but  mind  you  don't  work  your 
iaw  any  between  here  and  there." 

301 


MARK  TWAIN 


So  I  left,  and  struck  for  the  back  country.  I  didn't 
look  around,  but  I  kinder  felt  like  he  was  watching 
me.  But  I  knowed  I  could  tire  him  out  at  that.  I 
went  straight  out  in  the  country  as  much  as  a  mile 
before  I  stopped;  then  I  doubled  back  through  the 
woods  towards  Phelps's.  I  reckoned  I  better  start  in 
on  my  plan  straight  off  without  fooling  around,  be- 
cause I  wanted  to  stop  Jim's  mouth  till  these  fellows 
could  get  away.  I  didn't  want  no  trouble  with  their 
kind.  I'd  seen  all  I  wanted  to  of  them,  and  wanted 
to  get  entirely  shut  of  them, 


302 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


WHEN  I  got  there  it  was  all  still  and  Sunday- 
like, and  hot  and  sunshiny;  the  hands  was 
gone  to  the  fields;  and  there  was  them  kind  of  faint 
dronings  of  bugs  and  flies  in  the  air  that  makes  it 
seem  so  lonesome  and  like  everybody's  dead  and 
gone;  and  if  a  breeze  fans  along  and  quivers  the 
leaves  it  makes  you  feel  mournful,  because  you  feel 
like  it's  spirits  whispering — spirits  that's  been  dead 
ever  so  many  years — and  you  always  think  they're 
talking  about  you.  As  a  general  thing  it  makes  a 
body  wish  he  was  dead,  too,  and  done  with  it  all. 

Phelps's  was  one  of  these  little  one-horse  cotton 
plantations,  and  they  all  look  alike.  A  rail  fence 
round  a  two-acre  yard;  a  stile  made  out  of  logs  sawed 
off  and  up-ended  in  steps,  like  barrels  of  a  different 
length,  to  climb  over  the  fence  with,  and  for  the 
women  to  stand  on  when  they  are  going  to  jump 
onto  a  horse;  some  sickly  grass-patches  in  the  big 
yard,  but  mostly  it  was  bare  and  smooth,  like  an  old 
hat  with  the  nap  rubbed  off;  big  double  log  house 
for  the  white  folks — hewed  logs,  with  the  chinks 
stopped  up  with  mud  or  mortar,  and  these  mud- 
stripes  been  whitewashed  some  time  or  another? 
round-log  kitchen,  with  a  big  broad,  open  but  roofed 
passage  joining  it  to  the  house;  log  smokehouse  back 

303 


MARK  TWAIN 


of  the  kitchen ;  three  little  log  nigger  cabins  in  a  row 
t'other  side  the  smokehouse;  one  little  hut  all  by 
itself  away  down  against  the  back  fence,  and  some 
outbuildings  down  a  piece  the  other  side;  ash-hopper 
and  big  kettle  to  bile  soap  in  by  the  little  hut;  bench 
by  the  kitchen  door,  with  bucket  of  water  and  a 
gourd;  hound  asleep  there  in  the  sun;  more  hounds 
asleep  round  about ;  about  three  shade  trees  away  off 
in  a  corner;  some  currant  bushes  and  gooseberry 
bushes  in  one  place  by  the  fence ;  outside  of  the  fence 
a  garden  and  a  watermelon  patch ;  then  the  cotton- 
fields  begins,  and  after  the  fields  the  woods. 

I  went  around  and  dumb  over  the  back  stile  by  the 
ash-hopper,  and  started  for  the  kitchen.  When  I  got 
a  little  ways  I  heard  the  dim  hum  of  a  spinning-wheel 
wailing  along  up  and  sinking  along  down  again ;  and 
then  I  knowed  for  certain  I  wished  I  was  dead — for 
that  is  the  lonesomest  sound  in  the  whole  world. 

I  went  right  along,  not  fixing  up  any  particular 
plan,  but  just  trusting  to  Providence  to  put  the  right 
words  in  my  mouth  when  the  time  come;  for  I'd 
noticed  that  Providence  always  did  put  the  right 
words  in  my  mouth  if  I  left  it  alone. 

When  I  got  half-way,  first  one  hound  and  then 
another  got  up  and  went  for  me,  and  of  course  I 
stopped  and  faced  them,  and  kept  still.  And  such 
another  powwow  as  they  made!  In  a  quarter  of  a 
minute  I  was  a  kind  of  a  hub  of  a  wheel,  as  you  may 
say — spokes  made  out  of  dogs — circle  of  fifteen  of 
them  packed  together  around  me,  with  their  necks 
and  noses  stretched  up  towards  me,  a-barking  and 
howling;  and  more  a-coming;  you  could  see  them 

304 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


sailing  over  fences  and  around  comers  from  every- 
wheres. 

A  nigger  woman  come  tearing  out  of  the  kitchen 
with  a  rolling-pin  in  her  hand,  singing  out,  "Begone! 
you  Tige!  you  Spot!  begone  sah!"  and  she  fetched 
first  one  and  then  another  of  them  a  clip  and  sent 
them  howling,  and  then  the  rest  followed;  and  the 
next  second  half  of  them  come  back,  wagging  their 
tails  around  me,  and  making  friends  with  me.  There 
ain't  no  harm  in  a  hound,  nohow. 

And  behind  the  woman  comes  a  little  nigger  girl 
and  two  little  nigger  boys  without  anything  on  but 
tow-linen  shirts,  and  they  hung  on  to  their  mother's 
gown,  and  peeped  out  from  behind  her  at  me,  bashful, 
the  way  they  always  do.  And  here  comes  the  white 
woman  running  from  the  house,  about  forty-five  or 
fifty  year  old,  bareheaded,  and  her  spinning-stick  in 
her  hand;  and  behind  her  comes  her  little  white 
children,  acting  the  same  way  the  little  niggers  was 
going.  She  was  smiling  all  over  so  she  could  hardly 
stand — and  says: 

"It's  you,  at  last!-— ain't  it?" 

I  out  with  a  "Yes'm"  before  I  thought. 

She  grabbed  me  and  hugged  me  tight;  and  then 
gripped  me  by  both  hands  and  shook  and  shook ;  and 
the  tears  come  in  her  eyes,  and  run  down  over;  and 
she  couldn't  seem  to  hug  and  shake  enough,  and  kept 
saying,  "You  don't  look  as  much  like  your  mother 
as  I  reckoned  you  would;  but  law  sakes,  I  don't 
care  for  that,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you!  Dear,  dear,  it 
does  seem  like  I  could  eat  you  up!  Children,  it's 
your  cousin  Tom! — tell  him  howdy." 

305 


MARK  TWAIN 


But  they  ducked  their  heads,  and  put  their  fingers 
in  their  mouths,  and  hid  behind  her.  So  she  run  on : 

"Lize,  hurry  up  and  get  him  a  hot  breakfast  right 
away — or  did  you  get  your  breakfast  on  the  boat?" 

I  said  I  had  got  it  on  the  boat.  So  then  she  started 
for  the  house,  leading  me  by  the  hand,  and  the  chil- 
dren tagging  after.  When  we  got  there  she  set  me 
down  in  a  split-bottomed  chair,  and  set  herself  down 
on  a  little  low  stool  in  front  of  me,  holding  both  of 
my  hands,  and  says: 

4 'Now  I  can  have  a  good  look  at  you;  and,  laws-a- 
me,  I've  been  hungry  for  it  a  many  and  a  many  a 
time,  all  these  long  years,  and  it's  come  at  last !  We 
been  expecting  you  a  couple  of  days  and  more.  What 
kep'  you? — boat  get  aground?'* 

"Yes'm— she— " 

"Don't  say  yes'm — say  Aunt  Sally.  Where'd  she 
get  aground?" 

I  didn't  rightly  know  what  to  say,  because  I  didn't 
know  whether  the  boat  would  be  coming  up  the  river 
or  down.  But  I  go  a  good  deal  on  instinct ;  and  my 
instinct  said  she  would  be  coming  up — from  down 
towards  Orleans.  That  didn't  help  me  much,  though ; 
for  I  didn't  know  the  names  of  bars  down  that  way.  I 
see  I'd  got  to  invent  a  bar,  or  forget  the  name  of  the 
one  we  got  aground  on— or —  Now  I  struck  an  idea, 
and  fetched  it  out : 

"It  warn't  the  grounding — that  didn't  keep  us 
back  but  a  little.   We  bio  wed  out  a  cylinder-head." 

' '  Good  gracious !  anybody  hurt  ?" 

"No'm.   Killed  a -nigger." 

"Well,  it's  lucky;  because  sometimes  people  do 

306 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

get  hurt.  Two  years  ago  last  Christmas  your  uncle 
Silas  was  coming  up  from  Newrleans  on  the  old  Lolly 
Rook,  and  she  blowed  out  a  cylinder-head  and  crip- 
pled a  man.  And  I  think  he  died  afterwards.  He 
was  a  Baptist.  Your  uncle  Silas  knowed  a  family  in 
Baton  Rouge  that  knowed  his  people  very  well.  Yes, 
I  remember  now,  he  did  die.  Mortification  set  in, 
and  they  had  to  amputate  him.  But  it  didn't  save 
him.  Yes,  it  was  mortification — that  was  it.  He 
turned  blue  all  over,  and  died  in  the  hope  of  a  glorious 
resurrection.  They  say  he  was  a  sight  to  look  at. 
Your  uncle's  been  up  to  the  town  every  day  to  fetch 
you.  And  he's  gone  again,  not  more'n  an  hour  ago; 
he'll  be  back  any  minute  now.  You  must  'a'  met  him 
on  the  road,  didn't  you? — oldish  man,  with  a — " 

"No,  I  didn't  see  nobody,  Aunt  Sally.  The  boat 
landed  just  at  daylight,  and  I  left  my  baggage  on  the 
wharf -boat  and  went  looking  around  the  town  and 
out  a  piece  in  the  country,  to  put  in  the  time  and  not 
get  here  too  soon;  and  so  I  come  down  the  back  way." 

"Who'd  you  give  the  baggage  to?" 

"Nobody." 

"Why,  child,  it  'li  be  stole!" 
"Not  where  I  hid  it  I  reckon  it  won't,"  I  says. 
"How'd  you  get  your  breakfast  so  early  on  the 
boat?" 

It  was  kinder  thin  ice,  but  I  says: 

"The  captain  see  me  standing  around,  and  told  me 
I  better  have  something  to  eat  before  I  went  ashore; 
so  he  took  me  in  the  texas  to  the  officers'  lunch,  and 
give  me  all  I  wanted." 

I  was  getting  so  uneasy  I  couldn't  listen  good.  I 


MARK  TWAIN 


had  my  mind  on  the  children  all  the  time;  I  wanted  to 
get  them  out  to  one  side  and  pump  them  a  little,  and 
find  out  who  I  was.  But  I  couldn't  get  no  show, 
Mrs.  Phelps  kept  it  up  and  run  on  so.  Pretty  soon 
she  made  the  cold  chills  streak  all  down  my  back, 
because  she  says : 

44  But  here  we're  a-running  on  this  way,  and  you 
hain't  told  me  a  word  about  Sis,  nor  any  of  them. 
Now  I'll  rest  my  works  a  little,  and  you  start  up 
yourn;  just  tell  me  everything — tell  me  all  about 'm 
all — every  one  of 'm;  and  how  they  are,  and  what 
they're  doing,  and  what  they  told  you  to  tell  me; 
and  every  last  thing  you  can  think  of." 

Well,  I  see  I  was  up  a  stump — and  up  it  good. 
Providence  had  stood  by  me  this  fur  all  right,  but  I 
was  hard  and  tight  aground  now.  I  see  it  warn't  a  bit 
of  use  to  try  to  go  ahead-— I'd  got  to  throw  up  my 
hand.  So  I  says  to  myself,  here's  another  place 
where  I  got  to  resk  the  truth.  I  opened  my  mouth  to 
begin;  but  she  grabbed  me  and  hustled  me  in  behind 
the  bed,  and  says : 

"Here  he  comes!  Stick  your  head  down  lower- 
there,  that  '11  do ;  you  can't  be  seen  now.  Don't  you 
let  on  you're  here.  I'll  play  a  joke  on  him.  Chil- 
dren, don't  you  say  a  word." 

I  see  I  was  in  a  fix  now.  But  it  warn't  no  use  to 
worry;  there  warn't  nothing  to  do  but  just  hold  still, 
and  try  and  be  ready  to  stand  from  under  when  the 
lightning  struck. 

I  had  just  one  little  glimpse  of  the  old  gentleman 
when  he  come  in;  then  the  bed  hid  him.  Mrs. 
Phelps  she  jumps  for  him,  and  says: 

2>oS 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Has  he  come?" 

"No,"  says  her  husband. 

"Good-ness  gracious!"  she  says,  "what  in  the 
world  can  have  become  of  him?" 

"I  can't  imagine,"  says  the  old  gentleman;  "and 
I  must  say  it  makes  me  dreadful  uneasy." 

"Uneasy!"  she  says;  "I'm  ready  to  go  distracted! 
He  must  'a'  come;  and  you've  missed  him  along  the 
road.    I  know  it's  so— something  tells  me  so." 

"Why,  Sally,  I  couldn't  miss  him  along  the  road — 
you  know  that." 

"But  oh,  dear,  dear,  what  will  Sis  say!  He  must 
'a'  come!    You  must  'a'  missed  him.    He — " 

"Oh,  don't  distress  me  any  more'n  I'm  already  dis- 
tressed. I  don't  know  what  in  the  world  to  make  of 
it.  I'm  at  my  wit's  end,  and  I  don't  mind  acknowl- 
edging 't  I'm  right  down  scared.  But  there's  no  hope 
that  he's  come;  for  he  couldn't  come  and  me  miss 
him.  Sally,  it's  terrible— just  terrible— something's 
happened  to  the  boat,  sure!" 

* ■  Why,  Silas !  Look  yonder ! — up  the  road ! — ain't 
that  somebody  coming?" 

He  sprung  to  the  window  at  the  head  of  the  bed, 
and  that  give  Mrs.  Phelps  the  chance  she  wanted. 
She  stooped  down  quick  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  and 
give  me  a  pull,  and  out  I  come;  and  when  he  turned 
back  from  the  window  there  she  stood,  a-beaming  and 
a-smiling  like  a  house  afire,  and  I  standing  pretty 
meek  and  sweaty  alongside.  The  old  gentleman 
stared,  and  says: 

"Why,  who's  that?" 

"'Who  do  you  reckon  'tis?" 

309 


MARK  TWAIN 


' '  I  hain't  no  idea.    Who  is  it ?" 
"It's  Tom  Sawyer! ' ' 

By  jings,  I  most  slumped  through  the  floor!  But 
there  warn't  no  time  to  swap  knives;  the  old  man 
grabbed  me  by  the  hand  and  shook,  and  kept  on  shak- 
ing; and  all  the  time  how  the  woman  did  dance 
around  and  laugh  and  cry ;  and  then  how  they  both 
did  fire  off  questions  about  Sid,  and  Mary,  and  the 
rest  of  the  tribe. 

But  if  they  was  joyful,  it  warn't  nothing  to  what  I 
was ;  for  it  was  like  being  born  again,  I  was  so  glad  to 
find  out  who  I  was.  Well,  they  froze  to  me  for  two 
hours;  and  at  last,  when  my  chin  was  so  tired  it 
couldn't  hardly  go  any  more,  I  had  told  them  more 
about  my  family — I  mean  the  Sawyer  family — than 
ever  happened  to  any  six  Sawyer  families.  And  I  ex- 
plained all  about  how  we  blowed  out  a  cylinder-head 
at  the  mouth  of  White  River,  and  it  took  us  three 
days  to  fix  it.  Which  was  all  right,  and  worked  first- 
rate;  because  they  didn't  know  but  what  it  would 
take  three  days  to  fix  it.  If  I'd  'a'  called  it  a  bolt- 
head  it  would  'a'  done  just  as  well. 

Now  I  was  feeling  pretty  comfortable  all  down  one 
side,  and  pretty  uncomfortable  all  up  the  other.  Be- 
ing Tom  Sawyer  was  easy  and  comfortable,  and  it 
stayed  easy  and  comfortable  till  by  and  by  I  hear  a 
steamboat  coughing  along  down  the  river.  Then  I 
says  to  myself,  s'pose  Tom  Sawyer  comes  down  on 
that  boat  ?  And  s'pose  he  steps  in  here  any  minute, 
and  sings  out  my  name  before  I  can  throw  him  a  wink 
to  keep  quiet? 

Well,  I  couldn't  have  it  that  way;  it  wouldn't  do  at 
310 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


all.  I  must  go  up  the  road  and  waylay  him.  So  I 
told  the  folks  I  reckoned  I  would  go  up  to  the  town 
and  fetch  down  my  baggage.  The  old  gentleman  was 
for  going  along  with  me,  but  I  said  no,  I  could  drive 
the  horse  myself,  and  I  druther  he  wouldn't  take  no 
trouble  about  me. 


3ii 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


SO  I  started  for  town  in  the  wagon,  and  when  I 
was  half-way  I  see  a  wagon  coming,  and  sure 
enough  it  was  Tom  Sawyer,  and  I  stopped  and 
waited  till  he  come  along,  I  says  4 4 Hold  on!"  and  it 
stopped  alongside,  and  his  mouth  opened  up  like  a 
trunk,  and  stayed  so ;  and  he  swallowed  two  or  three 
times  like  a  person  that's  got  a  dry  throat,  and  then 
says : 

*  *  I  hain't  ever  done  you  no  harm.  You  know  that. 
So,  then,  what  you  want  to  come  back  and  ha'nt  me 
for?" 

I  says : 

"I  hain't  come  hack— I  hain't  been  gone.1' 

When  he  heard  my  voice  it  righted  him  up  some, 
but  he  warn't  quite  satisfied  yet.    He  says: 

1 4  Don't  you  play  nothing  on  me,  because  I  wouldn't 
on  you.    Honest  injun,  you  ain't  a  ghost?" 

"Honest  injun,  I  ain't,"  I  says. 

"Well-— I— I —well,  that  ought  to  settle  it,  of 
course;  but  I  can't  somehow  seem  to  understand  it  no 
way.    Looky  here,  warn't  you  ever  murdered  at  all?" 

"No.  I  warn't  ever  murdered  at  all — I  played  it 
on  them.  You  come  in  here  and  feel  of  me  if  you 
don't  believe  me." 

So  he  done  it;  and  it  satisfied  him;  and  he  was 
312 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


that  glad  to  see  me  again  he  didn't  know  what  to  do. 
And  he  wanted  to  know  all  about  it  right  off,  because 
it  was  a  grand  adventure,  and  mysterious,  and  so  it 
hit  him  where  he  lived.  But  I  said,  leave  it  alone 
till  by  and  by;  and  told  his  driver  to  wait,  and  we 
drove  off  a  little  piece,  and  I  told  him  the  kind  of  a 
fix  I  was  in,  and  what  did  he  reckon  we  better  do? 
He  said,  let  him  alone  a  minute,  and  don't  disturb 
him.  So  he  thought  and  thought,  and  pretty  soon 
he  says: 

"It's  all  right ;  I've  got  it.  Take  my  trunk  in  your 
wagon,  and  let  on  it's  yourn;  and  you  turn  back 
and  fool  along  slow,  so  as  to  get  to  the  house  about 
the  time  you  ought  to;  and  I'll  go  towards  town  a 
piece,  and  take  a  fresh  start,  and  get  there  a  quarter 
or  a  half  an  hour  after  you  ;  and  you  needn't  let  on  to 
know  me  at  first." 

I  says: 

"All  right;  but  wait  a  minute.  There's  pne  more 
thing — a  thing  that  nobody  don't  know  but  me. 
And  that  is,  there's  a  nigger  here  that  I'm  a-trying 
to  steal  out  of  slavery,  and  his  name  is  Jim— old  Miss 
Watson's  Jim." 

He  says  : 

"What!   Why,  Jim  is— " 

He  stopped  and  went  to  studying.    I  says : 

*'I  know  what  you'll  say.  You'll  say  it's  dirty, 
low-down  business ;  but  what  if  it  is  ?  I'm  low  down ; 
and  I'm  a-going  to  steal  him,  and  I  want  you  keep 
mum  and  not  let  on.    Will  you?" 

His  eye  lit  up,  and  he  says : 

"111  help  you  steal  him!" 

3*3 


MARK  TWAIN 


Well,  I  let  go  all  holts  then,  like  I  was  shot.  It 
was  the  most  astonishing  speech  I  ever  heard — and 
I'm  bound  to  say  Tom  Sawyer  fell  considerable  in  my 
estimation.  Only  I  couldn't  believe  it.  Tom  Saw- 
yer a  nigger -stealer I 

"Oh,  shucks!"  I  says;  "you're  joking." 

"I  ain't  joking,  either." 

"Well,  then,"  I  says,  "joking  or  no  joking,  if 
you  hear  anything  said  about  a  runaway  nigger, 
don't  forget  to  remember  that  you  don't  know 
nothing  about  him,  and  I  don't  know  nothing  about 
him." 

Then  he  took  the  trunk  and  put  it  in  my  wagon, 
and  he  drove  off  his  way  and  I  drove  mine.  But  of 
course  I  forgot  all  about  driving  slow  on  accounts  of 
being  glad  and  full  of  thinking;  so  I  got  home  a  heap 
too  quick  for  that  length  of  a  trip.  The  old  gentle- 
man was  at  the  door,  and  he  says : 

"Why,  this  is  wonderful!  Whoever  would  V 
thought  it  was  in  that  mare  to  do  it?  I  wish  we'd 
'a'  timed  her.  And  she  hain't  sweated  a  hair — not  a 
hair.  It's  wonderful.  Why,  I  wouldn't  take  a  hun- 
dred dollars  for  that  horse  now — I  wouldn't,  honest ; 
and  yet  I'd  'a'  sold  her  for  fifteen  before,  and  thought 
'twas  all  she  was  worth." 

That's  all  he  said.  He  was  the  innocentest,  best 
old  soul  I  ever  see.  But  it  warn't  surprising;  be- 
cause he  warn't  only  just  a  farmer,  he  was  a  preacher, 
too,  and  had  a  little  one-horse  log  church  down  back 
of  the  plantation,  which  he  built  it  himself  at  his  own 
expense,  for  a  church  and  schoolhouse,  and  never 
charged  nothing  for  his  preaching,  and  it  was  worth 

3H 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


it,  too.  There  was  plenty  other  farmer-preachers 
like  that,  and  done  the  same  way,  down  South. 

In  about  half  an  hour  Tom's  wagon  drove  up  to  the 
front  stile,  and  Aunt  Sally  she  see  it  through  the  win- 
dow, because  it  was  only  about  fifty  yards,  and  says : 

"Why,  there's  somebody  come!  I  wonder  who 
'tis?  Why,  I  do  believe  it's  a  stranger.  Jimmy" 
(that's  one  of  the  children),  "run  and  tell  Lize  to  put 
on  another  plate  for  dinner." 

Everybody  made  a  rush  for  the  front  door,  because, 
of  course,  a  stranger  don't  come  every  year,  and  so  he 
lays  over  the  yaller-fever,  for  interest,  when  he  does 
come.  Tom  was  over  the  stile  and  starting  for  the 
house;  the  wagon  was  spinning  up  the  road  for  the 
village,  and  we  was  all  bunched  in  the  front  door. 
Tom  had  his  store  clothes  on,  and  an  audience — and 
that  was  always  nuts  for  Tom  Sawyer.  In  them  cir- 
cumstances it  warn't  no  trouble  to  him  to  throw  in  an 
amount  of  style  that  was  suitable.  He  warn't  a  boy 
to  meeky  along  up  that  yard  like  a  sheep;  no,  he 
come  ca'm  and  important,  like  the  ram.  When  he 
got  a-front  of  us  he  lifts  his  hat  ever  so  gracious  and 
dainty,  like  it  was  the  lid  of  a  box  that  had  butterflies 
asleep  in  it  and  he  didn't  want  to  disturb  them,  and 
says : 

"Mr.  Archibald  Nichols,  I  presume?" 

"No,  my  boy,"  says  the  old  gentleman,  "I'm 
sorry  to  say 't  your  driver  has  deceived  you;  Nichols's 
place  is  down  a  matter  of  three  mile  more.  Come  in, 
come  in." 

Tom  he  took  a  look  back  over  his  shoulder,  and 
says,  "Too  late — he's  out  of  sight." 

-  T  -  M.T.-3-11 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Yes,  he's  gone,  my  son,  and  you  must  come  in 
and  eat  your  dinner  with  us;  and  then  we'll  hitch  up 
and  take  you  down  to  Nichols's." 

"Oh,  I  can't  make  you  so  much  trouble;  I  couldn't 
think  of  it.    I'll  walk — I  don't  mind  the  distance." 

"But  we  won't  let  you  walk — it  wouldn't  be 
Southern  hospitality  to  do  it.    Come  right  in." 

"Oh,  do,"  says  Aunt  Sally;  "it  ain't  a  bit  of 
trouble  to  us,  not  a  bit  in  the  world.  You  must  stay. 
It's  a  long,  dusty  three  mile,  and  we  can't  let  you 
walk.  And,  besides,  I've  already  told  'em  to  put  on 
another  plate  when  I  see  you  coming;  so  you  mustn't 
disappoint  us.  Come  right  in  and  make  yourself  at 
home." 

So  Tom  he  thanked  them  very  hearty  and  hand- 
some, and  let  himself  be  persuaded,  and  come  in;  and 
when  he  was  in  he  said  he  was  a  stranger  from  Hicks- 
ville,  Ohio,  and  his  name  wras  William  Thompson—* 
and  he  made  another  bow. 

Well,  he  run  on,  and  on,  and  on,  making  up  stuff 
about  Hicksville  and  everybody  in  it  he  could 
invent,  and  I  getting  a  little  nervious,  and  wondering 
how  this  was  going  to  help  me  out  of  my  scrape;  and 
at  last,  still  talking  along,  he  reached  over  and  kissed 
Aunt  Sally  right  on  the  mouth,  and  then  settled 
back  again  in  his  chair  comfortable,  and  was  going 
on  talking;  but  she  jumped  up  and  wiped  it  off  with 
the  back  of  her  hand,  and  says: 

"You  owdacious  puppy!" 

He  looked  kind  of  hurt,  and  says: 

"I'm  surprised  at  you,  m'am." 

"You're  s'rp —  Why,  what  do  you  reckon  J  am? 
316 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


I've  a  good  notion  to  take  and —  Say,  what  do  you 
mean  by  kissing  me?" 

He  looked  kind  of  humble,  and  says : 

"I  didn't  mean  nothing,  m'am.  I  didn't  mean 
no  harm.    I — I— thought  you'd  like  it." 

"Why,  you  born  fool !"  She  took  up  the  spinning- 
stick,  and  it  looked  like  it  was  all  she  could  do  to 
keep  from  giving  him  a  crack  with  it.  "What  made 
you  think  I'd  like  it?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know.  Only,  they— they— told 
me  you  would." 

"They  told  you  I  would.  Whoever  told  you's 
another  lunatic.  I  never  heard  the  beat  of  it.  Who's 
they?" 

"Why,  everybody.    They  all  said  so,  m'am." 

It  was  all  she  could  do  to  hold  in;  and  her  eyes 
snapped,  and  her  fingers  worked  like  she  wanted  to 
scratch  him;  and  she  says: 

"Who's  'everybody'?  Out  with  their  names,  or 
ther'll  be  an  idiot  short." 

He  got  up  and  looked  distressed,  and  fumbled  his 
hat,  and  says: 

"I'm  sorry,  and  I  warn't  expecting  it.  They  told 
me  to.  They  all  told  me  to.  They  all  said,  kiss 
her;  and  said  she'd  like  it.  They  all  said  it — every 
one  of  them.  But  I'm  sorry,  m'am,  and  I  won't  do 
it  no  more — I  won't,  honest." 

"You  won't,  won't  you?  Well,  I  sh'd  reckon  you 
won't!" 

"No'm,  I'm  honest  about  it;  I  won't  ever  do  it 
'again — till  you  ask  me." 

"Till  I  ask  you!   Well,  I  never  see  the  beat  of 
3i7 


MARK  TWAIN 


it  in  my  born  days !  I  lay  you'll  be  the  Methusalem- 
numskull  of  creation  before  ever  I  ask  you — or  the 
likes  of  you." 

"Well,"  he  says,  "it  does  surprise  me  so.  I  can't 
make  it  out,  somehow.  They  said  you  would,  and 
I  thought  you  would.  But — "  He  stopped  and 
looked  around  slow,  like  he  wished  he  could  run 
across  a  friendly  eye  somewheres,  and  fetched  up  on 
the  old  gentleman's,  and  says,  "Didn't  you  think 
she'd  like  me  to  kiss  her,  sir?" 

"Why,  no;  I— I— well,  no,  I  b'lieve  I  didn't." 

Then  he  looks  on  around  the  same  way  to  me,  and 
says: 

"Tom,  didn't  you  think  Aunt  Sally  'd  open  out 
her  arms  and  say,  'Sid  Sawyer — '" 

"My  land!"  she  says,  breaking  in  and  jumping  for 
him,  "you  impudent  young  rascal,  to  fool  a  body 
so — "  and  was  going  to  hug  him,  but  he  fended  her 
off,  and  says: 

"No,  not  till  you've  asked  me  first." 

So  she  didn't  lose  no  time,  but  asked  him;  and 
hugged  him  and  kissed  him  over  and  over  again,  and 
then  turned  him  over  to  the  old  man,  and  he  took 
what  was  left.  And  after  they  got  a  little  quiet 
again  she  says: 

"Why,  dear  me,  I  never  see  such  a  surprise.  We 
warn't  looking  for  you  at  all,  but  only  Tom.  Sis 
never  wrote  to  me  about  anybody  coming  but  him." 

"It's  because  it  warn't  intended  for  any  of  us  to 
come  but  Tom,"  he  says;  "but  I  begged  and  begged, 
and  at  the  last  minute  she  let  me  come,  too;  so, 
coming  down  the  river,  me  and  Tom  thought  it 

3i8 


,    HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

would  be  a  first-rate  surprise  for  him  to  come  here 
to  the  house  first,  and  for  me  to  by  and  by  tag  along 
and  drop  in,  and  let  on  to  be  a  stranger.  But  it 
was  a  mistake,  Aunt  Sally.  This  ain't  no  healthy 
place  for  a  stranger  to  come." 

"No — not  impudent  whelps,  Sid.  You  ought  to 
had  your  jaws  boxed;  I  hain't  been  so  put  out  since 
I  don't  know  when.  But  I  don't  care,  I  don't  mind 
the  terms — I'd  be  willing  to  stand  a  thousand  such 
jokes  to  have  you  here.  Well,  to  think  of  that  per- 
formance !  I  don't  deny  it,  I  was  most  putrified  with 
astonishment  when  you  give  me  that  smack." 

We  had  dinner  out  in  that  broad  open  passage 
betwixt  the  house  and  the  kitchen;  and  there  was 
things  enough  on  that  table  for  seven  families — and 
all  hot,  too;  none  of  your  flabby,  tough  meat  that's 
laid  in  a  cupboard  in  a  damp  cellar  all  night  and 
tastes  like  a  hunk  of  old  cold  cannibal  in  the  morning. 
Uncle  Silas  he  asked  a  pretty  long  blessing  over  it, 
but  it  was  worth  it;  and  it  didn't  cool  it  a  bit, 
neither,  the  way  I've  seen  them  kind  of  interruptions 
do  lots  of  times. 

There  was  a  considerable  good  deal  of  talk  all  the 
afternoon,  and  me  and  Tom  was  on  the  lookout  all 
the  time;  but  it  warn't  no  use,  they  didn't  happen  to 
say  nothing  about  any  runaway  nigger,  and  we  was 
afraid  to  try  to  work  up  to  it.  But  at  supper,  at 
night,  one  of  the  little  boys  says : 

"Pa,  mayn't  Tom  and  Sid  and  me  go  to  the  show?" 

"No,"  says  the  old  man,  "I  reckon  there  ain't 
going  to  be  any;  and  you  couldn't  go  if  there  was; 
because  the  runaway  nigger  told  Burton  and  me  ail 


MARK  TWAIN 


about  that  scandalous  show,  and  Burton  said  he 
would  tell  the  people;  so  I  reckon  they've  drove  the 
owdacious  loafers  out  of  town  before  this  time." 

So  there  it  was ! — but  I  couldn't  help  it.  Tom  and 
me  was  to  sleep  in  the  same  room  and  bed ;  so,  being 
tired,  we  bid  good  night  and  went  up  to  bed  right 
after  supper,  and  dumb  out  of  the  window  and 
down  the  lightning-rod,  and  shoved  for  the  town; 
for  I  didn't  believe  anybody  was  going  to  give 
the  king  and  the  duke  a  hint,  and  so  if  I  didn't 
hurry  up  and  give  them  one  they'd  get  into  trouble 
sure. 

On  the  road  Tom  he  told  me  all  about  how  it  was 
reckoned  I  was  murdered,  and  how  pap  disappeared 
pretty  soon,  and  didn't  come  back  no  more,  and  what 
a  stir  there  was  when  Jim  run  away;  and  I  told  Tom 
all  about  our  "Royal  Nonesuch"  rapscallions,  and  as 
much  of  the  raft  voyage  as  I  had  time  to;  and  as 
we  struck  into  the  town  and  up  through  the  middle 
of  it — it  was  as  much  as  half  after  eight  then — here 
comes  a  raging  rush  of  people  with  torches,  and  an 
awful  whooping  and  yelling,  and  banging  tin  pans 
and  blowing  horns;  and  we  jumped  to  one  side  to 
let  them  go  by ;  and  as  they  went  by  I  see  they  had 
the  king  and  the  duke  astraddle  of  a  rail — that  is, 
I  knowed  it  was  the  king  and  the  duke,  though  they 
was  all  over  tar  and  feathers,  and  didn't  look  like 
nothing  in  the  world  that  was  human — just  looked 
like  a  couple  of  monstrous  big  soldier-plumes.  Well, 
it  made  me  sick  to  see  it;  and  I  was  sorry  for  them 
poor  pitiful  rascals,  it  seemed  like  I  couldn't  ever 
feel  any  hardness  against  them  any  more  in  the 

32a 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


world.  It  was  a  dreadful  thing  to  see.  Human 
beings  can  be  awful  cruel  to  one  another. 

We  see  we  was  too  late — couldn't  do  no  good. 
We  asked  some  stragglers  about  it,  and  they  said 
everybody  went  to  the  show  looking  very  innocent; 
and  laid  low  and  kept  dark  till  the  poor  old  king  was 
in  the  middle  of  his  cavortings  on  the  stage;  then 
somebody  give  a  signal,  and  the  house  rose  up  and 
went  for  them. 

So  we  poked  along  back  home,  and  I  warn't  feeling 
so  brash  as  I  was  before,  but  kind  of  ornery,  and 
humble,  and  to  blame,  somehow — though  I  hadn't 
done  nothing.  But  that's  always  the  way;  it  don't 
make  no  difference  whether  you  do  right  or  wrong, 
a  person's  conscience  ain't  got  no  sense,  and  just 
goes  for  him  anyway.  If  I  had  a  yaller  dog  that 
didn't  know  no  more  than  a  person's  conscience  does 
I  would  pison  him.  It  takes  up  more  room  than 
all  the  rest  of  a  person's  insides,  and  yet  ain't  no 
good,  nohow.   Tom  Sawyer  he  says  the  same. 


321 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


WE  stopped  talking,  and  got  to  thinking.  By 
and  by  Tom  says : 
"Looky  here,  Huck,  what  fools  we  are  to  not 
think  of  it  before!    I  bet  I  know  where  Jim  is." 
'  'No!  Where?" 

"In  that  hut  down  by  the  ash-hopper.  Why, 
looky  here.  When  we  was  at  dinner,  didn't  you  see 
a  nigger  man  go  in  there  with  some  vittles?" 

"Yes." 

"What  did  you  think  the  vittles  was  for?" 
"For  a  dog." 

"So 'd  I.    Well,  it  wasn't  for  a  dog." 
"Why?" 

"Because  part  of  it  was  watermelon."* 
"So  it  was — I  noticed  it.    Well,  it  does  beat  all 
that  I  never  thought  about  a  dog  not  eating  water- 
melon.   It  shows  how  a  body  can  see  and  don't  see 
at  the  same  time." 

"Well,  the  nigger  unlocked  the  padlock  when  he 
went  in,  and  he  locked  it  again  when  he  came  out. 
He  fetched  uncle  a  key  about  the  time  we  got  up 
from  table — same  key,  I  bet.  Watermelon  shows 
man,  lock  shows  prisoner;  and  it  ain't  likely  there's 
two  prisoners  on  such  a  little  plantation,  and  where 
the  people's  all  so  kind  and  good.    Jim's  the  pris- 

322 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


:>ner.  All  right — I'm  glad  we  found  it  out  detective 
fashion;  I  wouldn't  give  shucks  for  any  other  way. 
Now  you  work  your  mind,  and  study  out  a  plan  to 
steal  Jim,  and  I  will  study  out  one,  too;  and  we'll 
take  the  one  we  like  the  best." 

What  a  head  for  just  a  boy  to  have !  If  I  had  Tom 
Sawyer's  head  I  wouldn't  trade  it  off  to  be  a  duke,  nor 
mate  of  a  steamboat,  nor  clown  in  a  circus,  nor  noth- 
ing I  can  think  of.  I  went  to  thinking  out  a  plan,  but 
only  just  to  be  doing  something;  I  knowed  very 
well  where  the  right  plan  was  going  to  come  from. 
Pretty  soon  Tom  says: 

"Ready?" 

"Yes,"  I  says. 

"All  right— bring  it  out." 

"My  plan  is  this,"  I  says.  "We  can  easy  find  out 
if  it's  Jim  in  there.  Then  get  up  my  canoe  to-morrow 
night,  and  fetch  my  raft  over  from  the  island.  Then 
the  first  dark  night  that  comes  steal  the  key  out  of 
the  old  man's  britches  after  he  goes  to  bed,  and 
shove  off  down  the  river  on  the  raft  with  Jim, 
hiding  daytimes  and  running  nights,  the  way  me 
and  Jim  used  to  do  before.  Wouldn't  that  plan 
work?" 

"Work?  Why,  cert'nly  it  would  work,  like  rats 
a-fighting.  But  it's  too  blame'  simple;  there  ain't 
nothing  to  it.  What's  the  good  of  a  plan  that  ain't 
no  more  trouble  than  that?  It's  as  mild  as  goose- 
milk.  Why,  Huck,  it  wouldn't  make  no  more  talk 
than  breaking  into  a  soap  factory." 

I  never  said  nothing,  because  I  warn't  expecting 
nothing  different;  but  I  knowed  mighty  well  that 

323 


MARK  TWAIN 


whenever  he  got  his  plan  ready  it  wouldn't  have  none 
of  them  objections  to  it. 

And  it  didn't.  He  told  me  what  it  was,  and  I  see 
in  a  minute  it  was  worth  fifteen  of  mine  for  style,  and 
would  make  Jim  just  as  free  a  man  as  mine  would, 
and  maybe  get  us  all  killed  besides.  So  I  was  satis- 
fied, and  said  we  would  waltz  in  on  it.  I  needn't  tell 
what  it  was  here,  because  I  knowed  it  wouldn't  stay 
the  way  it  was.  I  knowed  he  would  be  changing  it 
around  every  which  way  as  we  went  along,  and  heav- 
ing in  new  bullinesses  wherever  he  got  a  chance. 
And  that  is  what  he  done. 

Well,  one  thing  was  dead  sure,  and  that  was  that 
Tom  Sawyer  was  in  earnest,  and  was  actuly  going  to 
help  steal  that  nigger  out  of  slavery.  That  was  the 
thing  that  was  too  many  for  me.  Here  was  a  boy 
that  was  respectable  and  well  brung  up;  and  had 
a  character  to  lose;  and  folks  at  home  that  had  char- 
acters; and  he  was  bright  and  not  leather-headed ; 
and  knowing  and  not  ignorant;  and  not  mean,  but 
kind;  and  yet  here  he  was,  without  any  more  pride, 
or  Tightness,  or  feeling,  than  to  stoop  to  this  business, 
and  make  himself  a  shame,  and  his  family  a  shame, 
before  everybody.  I  couldn't  understand  it  no  way 
at  all.  It  was  outrageous,  and  I  knowed  I  ought  to 
just  up  and  tell  him  so;  and  so  be  his  true  friend,  and 
let  him  quit  the  thing  right  where  he  was  and  save 
himself.  And  I  did  start  to  tell  him;  but  he  shut  me 
up,  and  says : 

* '  Don't  you  reckon  I  know  what  I'm  about  ?  Don't 
I  generiy  know  what  I'm  about?" 

"Yes." 

'324 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Didn't  I  say  I  was  going  to  help  steal  the  nigger ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  then." 

That's  all  he  said,  and  that's  all  I  said.  It  warn't 
no  use  to  say  any  more;  because  when  he  said  he'd 
do  a  thing,  he  always  done  it.  But  I  couldn't  make 
out  how  he  was  willing  to  go  into  this  thing;  so  I 
just  let  it  go,  and  never  bothered  no  more  about  it. 
If  he  was  bound  to  have  it  so,  I"  couldn't  help  it. 

When  we  got  home  the  house  was  all  dark  and  still ; 
so  we  went  on  down  to  the  hut  by  the  ash-hopper  for 
to  examine  it.  We  went  through  the  yard  so  as  to 
see  what  the  hounds  would  do.  They  knowed  us, 
and  didn't  make  no  more  noise  than  country  dogs  is 
always  doing  when  anything  comes  by  in  the  night. 
When  we  got  to  the  cabin  we  took  a  look  at  the  front 
and  the  two  sides;  and  on  the  side  I  warn't  ac- 
quainted with — which  was  the  north  side— -we  found 
a  square  window-hole,  up  tolerable  high,  with  just 
one  stout  board  nailed  across  it.   I  says: 

"Here's  the  ticket.  This  hole's  big  enough  for  Jim 
to  get  through  if  we  wrench  off  the  board." 

Tom  says: 

"It's  as  simple  as  tit-tat-toe,  three-in-a-row,  and 
as  easy  as  playing  hooky.  I  should  hope  we  can  find 
a  way  that's  a  little  more  complicated  than  that, 
Huck  Finn." 

"Well,  then,"  I  says,  "how'll  it  do  to  saw  him 
out,  the  way  I  done  before  I  was  murdered  that 
time?" 

* 1  That's  more  like, ' '  he  says.  "It's  real  mysterious, 
and  troublesome,  and  good,"  he  says;  "but  I  bet  we 

325 


MARK  TWAIN 


can  find  a  way  that's  twice  as  long.  There  ain't  no 
hurry;  le's  keep  on  looking  around." 

Betwixt  the  hut  and  the  fence,  on  the  back  side, 
was  a  lean-to  that  joined  the  hut  at  the  eaves,  and 
was  made  out  of  plank.  It  was  as  long  as  the  hut, 
but  narrow — only  about  six  foot  wide.  The  door  to 
it  was  at  the  south  end,  and  was  padlocked.  Tom  he 
went  to  the  soap-kettle  and  searched  around,  and 
fetched  back  the  iron  thing  they  lift  the  lid  with;  so 
he  took  it  and  prized  out  one  of  the  staples.  The 
chain  fell  down,  and  we  opened  the  door  and  went  in, 
and  shut  it,  and  struck  a  match,  and  see  the  shed 
was  only  built  against  a  cabin  and  hadn't  no  connec- 
tion with  it ;  and  there  warn't  no  floor  to  the  shed,  nor 
nothing  in  it  but  some  old  rusty  played-out  hoes 
and  spades  and  picks  and  a  crippled  plow.  The 
match  went  out,  and  so  did  we,  and  shoved  in  the 
staple  again,  and  the  door  was  locked  as  good  as 
ever.   Tom  was  joyful.   He  says : 

"Now  we're  all  right.  We'll  dig  Mm  out.  It  '11 
take  about  a  week!" 

Then  we  started  for  the  house,  and  I  went  in  the 
back  door — you  only  have  to  pull  a  buckskin  latch- 
string,  they  don't  fasten  the  doors — but  that  warn't 
romantical  enough  for  Tom  Sawyer;  no  way  would 
do  him  but  he  must  climb  up  the  lightning-rod.  But 
after  he  got  up  half-way  about  three  times,  and  missed 
fire  and  fell  every  time,  and  the  last  time  most  busted 
his  brains  out,  he  thought  he'd  got  to  give  it  up;  but 
after  he  was  rested  he  allowed  he  would  give  her  one 
more  turn  for  luck,  and  this  time  he  made  the  trip. 

In  the  morning  we  was  up  at  break  of  day,  and 

326 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


down  to  the  nigger  cabins  to  pet  the  dogs  and  make 
friends  with  the  nigger  that  fed  Jim — if  it  was  Jim 
that  was  being  fed.  The  niggers  was  just  getting 
through  breakfast  and  starting  for  the  fields;  and 
Jim's  nigger  was  piling  up  a  tin  pan  with  bread  and 
meat  and  things;  and  whilst  the  others  was  leaving, 
the  key  come  from  the  house. 

This  nigger  had  a  good-natured,  chuckle-headed 
face,  and  his  wool  was  all  tied  up  in  little  bunches 
with  thread.  That  was  to  keep  witches  off.  He  said 
the  witches  was  pestering  him  awful  these  nights, 
and  making  him  see  all  kinds  of  strange  things,  and 
hear  all  kinds  of  strange  words  and  noises,  and  he 
didn't  believe  he  was  ever  witched  so  long  before  in 
his  life.  He  got  so  worked  up,  and  got  to  running  on 
so  about  his  troubles,  he  forgot  all  about  what  he'd 
been  a-going  to  do.   So  Tom  says: 

"What's  the  vittles  for?  Going  to  feed  the  dogs?" 

The  nigger  kind  of  smiled  around  graduly  over  his 
face,  like  when  you  heave  a  brickbat  in  a  mud-puddle, 
and  he  says : 

"Yes,  Mars  Sid,  a  dog.  Cur'us  dog,  too.  Does 
you  want  to  go  en  look  at  'im?" 

"Yes." 

I  hunched  Tom,  and  whispers : 

"You  going,  right  here  in  the  daybreak?  That 
warn't  the  plan." 

"No,  it  warn't;  but  it's  the  plan  now." 

So,  drat  him,  we  went  along,  but  I  didn't  like  it 
much.  When  we  got  in  we  couldn't  hardly  see  any- 
thing,  it  was  so  dark ;  but  Jim  was  there,  sure  enough, 
and  could  see  us;  and  he  sings  out: 

327 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Why,  Hack!  En  good  lan9!  am'  dat  Misto  Tom?'9 
I  just  knowed  how  it  would  be;  I  just  expected  it. 
I  didn't  know  nothing  to  do;  and  if  I  had  I  couldn't 
'a'  done  it,  because  that  nigger  busted  in  and  says: 

"Why,  de  gracious  sakes!  do  he  know  you  genl- 
men?" 

We  could  see  pretty  well  now.  Tom  he  looked  at 
the  nigger,  steady  and  kind  of  wondering,  and  says: 

"Does  who  know  us?" 

"Why,  dis-yer  runaway  nigger.'* 

"I  don't  reckon  he  does;  but  what  put  that  into 
your  head?" 

4 'What  put  it  dar?  Didn'  he  jis'  dis  minute  sing 
out  like  he  knowed  you?" 

Tom  says,  in  a  puzzled-up  kind  of  way : 

"Well,  that's  mighty  curious.  Who  sung  out? 
When  did  he  sing  out?  What  did  he  sing  out?"  And 
turns  to  me,  perfectly  ca'm,  and  says,  "Did  you 
hear  anybody  sing  out?" 

Of  course  there  warn't  nothing  to  be  said  but  the 
one  thing;  so  I  says: 

"No;  I  ain't  heard  nobody  say  nothing." 

Then  he  turns  to  Jim,  and  looks  him  over  like  he 
never  see  him  before,  and  says: 

"Did  you  sing  out?" 

"No,  sah,"  says  Jim;  "/  hain't  said  nothing,  sah." 
"Not  a  word?" 

"No,  sah,  I  hain't  said  a  word." 
4 'Did  you  ever  see  us  before?" 
"No,  sah;  not  as  I  knows  on." 
So  Tom  turns  to  the  nigger,  which  was  looking 
wild  and  distressed,  and  says,  kind  of  severe: 

328 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"What  do  you  reckon's  the  matter  with  you,  any- 
way? What  made  you  think  somebody  sung  out?" 

"Oh,  it's  de  dad-blame'  witches,  sah,  en  I  wisht  I 
was  dead,  I  do.  Dey's  awluz  at  it,  sah,  en  dey  do 
mos'  kill  me,  dey  sk'yers  me  so.  Please  to  don't  tell 
nobody  'bout  it  sah,  er  ole  Mars  Silas  he'll  scole  me; 
'kase  he  say  dey  ain't  no  witches.  I  jis'  wish  to  good- 
ness he  was  heah  now — den  what  would  he  say!  I 
jis'  bet  he  couldn'  fine  no  way  to  git  aroun'  it  dis 
time.  But  it's  awluz  jis'  so;  people  dat's  sot,  stays 
sot;  dey  won't  look  into  noth'n'  en  fine  it  out  f  'r  dey- 
selves,  en  when  you  fine  it  out  en  tell  um  'bout  it, 
dey  doan'  b'lieve  you."  , 

Tom  give  him  a  dime,  and  said  we  wouldn't  tell  no- 
body; and  told  him  to  buy  some  more  thread  to  tie 
up  his  wool  with;  and  then  looks  at  Jim,  and  says: 

"I  wonder  if  Uncle  Silas  is  going  to  hang  this  nig- 
ger. If  I  was  to  catch  a  nigger  that  was  ungrateful 
enough  to  run  away,  I  wouldn't  give  him  up,  I'd 
hang  him."  And  whilst  the  nigger  stepped  to  the 
door  to  look  at  the  dime  and  bite  it  to  see  if  it  was 
good,  he  whispers  to  Jim  and  says: 

"Don't  ever  let  on  to  know  us.  And  if  you  hear 
any  digging  going  on  nights,  it's  us;  we're  going  to 
set  you  free." 

Jim  only  had  time  to  grab  us  by  the  hand  and 
squeeze  it;  then  the  nigger  come  back,  and  we  said 
we'd  come  again  some  time  if  the  nigger  wanted  us 
to;  and  he  said  he  would,  more  particular  if  it  was 
dark,  because  the  witches  went  for  him  mostly  in 
the  dark,  and  it  was  good  to  have  folks  around  then. 


329 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


IT  would  be  most  an  hour  yet  till  breakfast,  so  we 
left  and  struck  down  into  the  woods;  because 
Tom  said  we  got  to  have  some  light  to  see  how  to  dig 
by,  and  a  lantern  makes  too  much,  and  might  get 
us  into  trouble;  what  we  must  have  was  a  lot  of 
them  rotten  chunks  that5s  called  fox-fire,  and  just 
makes  a  soft  kind  of  a  glow  when  you  lay  them  in  a 
dark  place.  We  fetched  an  armful  and  hid  it  in  the 
weeds,  and  set  down  to  rest,  and  Tom  says,  kind  of 
dissatisfied : 

"  Blame  it,  this  whole  thing  is  just  as  easy  and 
awkward  as  it  can  be.  And  so  it  makes  it  so  rotten 
difficult  to  get  up  a  difficult  plan.  There  ain't  no 
watchman  to  be  drugged — now  there  ought  to  be  a 
watchman.  There  ain't  even  a  dog  to  give  a  sleeping- 
mixture  to.  And  there's  Jim  chained  by  one  leg, 
with  a  ten-foot  chain,  to  the  leg  of  his  bed :  why,  all 
you  got  to  do  is  to  life  up  the  bedstead  and  slip  off 
the  chain.  And  Uncle  Silas  he  trusts  everybody; 
sends  the  key  to  the  punkin-headed  nigger,  and  don't 
send  nobody  to  watch  the  nigger.  Jim  could  'a'  got 
out  of  that  window-hole  before  this,  only  there 
wouldn't  be  no  use  trying  to  travel  with  a  ten-foot 
chain  on  his  leg.  Why,  drat  it,  Huck,  it's  the  stupid- 
est arrangement  I  ever  see.   You  got  to  invent  all 

330 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

the  difficulties.  Well,  we  can't  help  it;  we  got  to 
do  the  best  we  can  with  the  materials  we've  got. 
Anyhow,  there's  one  thing — there's  more  honor  in 
getting  him  out  through  a  lot  of  difficulties  and 
dangers,  where  there  warn't  one  of  them  furnished 
to  you  by  the  people  who  it  was  their  duty  to  furnish 
them,  and  you  had  to  contrive  them  all  out  of  your 
own  head.  Now  look  at  just  that  one  thing  of  the 
lantern.  When  you  come  down  to  the  cold  facts,  we 
simply  got  to  let  on  that  a  lantern's  resky.  Why,  we 
could  work  with  a  torchlight  procession  if  we  wanted 
to,  I  believe.  Now,  whilst  I  think  of  it,  we  got  to 
hunt  up  something  to  make  a  saw  out  of  the  first 
chance  we  get." 

"What  do  we  want  of  a  saw?" 

"What  do  we  want  of  a  saw?  Hain't  we  got  to 
saw  the  leg  of  Jim's  bed  off,  so  as  to  get  the  chain 
loose?" 

"Why,  you  just  said  a  body  could  lift  up  the  bed- 
stead and  slip  the  chain  off." 

"Well,  if  that  ain't  just  like  you,  Huck  Finn.  You 
can  get  up  the  infant-schooliest  ways  of  going  at  a 
thing.  Why,  hain't  you  ever  read  any  books  at  all  ? — 
Baron  Trenck,  nor  Casanova,  nor  Benvenuto  Chel- 
leeny,  nor  Henri  IV.,  nor  none  of  them  heroes?  Who 
ever  heard  of  getting  a  prisoner  loose  in  such  an  old- 
maidy  way  as  that  ?  No;  the  way  all  the  best  author- 
ities does  is  to  saw  the  bed-leg  in  two,  and  leave  it 
just  so,  and  swallow  the  sawdust,  so  it  can't  be  found, 
and  put  some  dirt  and  grease  around  the  sawed  place 
so  the  very  keenest  seneskal  can't  see  no  sign  of  its 
being  sawed,  and  thinks  the  bed-leg  is  perfectly 

33* 


MARK  TWAIN 


sound,  Then,  the  night  you're  ready,  fetch  the  leg 
a  kick,  down  she  goes ;  slip  off  your  chain,  and  there 
you  are.  Nothing  to  do  but  hitch  your  rope  ladder 
to  the  battlements,  shin  down  it,  break  your  leg  in 
the  moat — because  a  rope  ladder  is  nineteen  foot  too 
short,  you  know — and  there's  your  horses  and  your 
trusty  vassles,  and  they  scoop  you  up  and  fling  you 
across  a  saddle,  and  away  you  go  to  your  native 
Langudoc,  or  Navarre,  or  wherever  it  is.  It's  gaudy, 
Huck.  I  wish  there  was  a  moat  to  this  cabin.  If  we 
get  time,  the  night  of  the  escape,  we'll  dig  one." 
I  says: 

"What  do  we  want  of  a  moat  when  we're  going  to 
snake  him  out  from  under  the  cabin?" 

But  he  never  heard  me.  He  had  forgot  me  and 
everything  else.  He  had  his  chin  in  his  hand,  think- 
ing. Pretty  soon  he  sighs  and  shakes  his  head;  then 
sighs  again,  and  says: 

"No,  it  wouldn't  do — there  ain't  necessity  enough 
for  it." 

"For  what?"  I  says. 

"Why,  to  saw  Jim's  leg  off,"  he  says. 

"Good  land!"  I  says;  "why,  there  ain't  no  neces- 
sity for  it.  And  what  would  you  want  to  saw  his  leg 
off  for,  anyway?" 

"Well,  some  of  the  best  authorities  has  done  it. 
They  couldn't  get  the  chain  off,  so  they  just  cut  their 
hand  off  and  shoved.  And  a  leg  would  be  better  still. 
But  we  got  to  let  that  go.  There  ain't  necessity 
enough  in  this  case;  and,  besides,  Jim's  a  nigger,  and 
wouldn't  understand  the  reasons  for  it,  and  how  it's 
the  custom  in  Europe ;  so  we'll  let  it  go.    But  there's 

332 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


one  thing — he  can  have  a  rope  ladder;  we  can  tear 
up  cur  sheets  and  make  him  a  rope  ladder  easy 
enough.  And  we  can  send  it  to  him  in  a  pie;  it's 
mostly  done  that  way.    And  I've  et  worse  pies." 

" Why,  Tom  Sawyer,  how  you  talk,"  I  says;  "Jim 
ain't  got  no  use  for  a  rope  ladder." 

"He  has  got  use  for  it.  How  you  talk,  you  better 
say;  you  don't  know  nothing  about  it.  He's  got  to 
have  a  rope  ladder;  they  all  do." 

"What  in  the  nation  can  he  do  with  it?" 

"Do  with  it?  He  can  hide  it  in  his  bed,  can't  he? 
That's  what  they  all  do;  and  he's  got  to,  too-. 
Huck,  you  don't  ever  seem  to  want  to  do  anything 
that's  regular;  you  want  to  be  starting  something 
fresh  all  the  time.  S'pose  he  don't  do  nothing  with 
it?  ain't  it  there  in  his  bed,  for  a  clue,  after  he's 
gone?  and  don't  you  reckon  they'll  want  clues?  Of 
course  they  will.  And  you  wouldn't  leave  them 
any?  That  would  be  a  pretty  howdy-do,  wouldn't  it! 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "if  it's  in  the  regulations,  and  he's 
got  to  have  it,  all  right,  let  him  have  it;  because  I 
don't  wish  to  go  back  on  no  regulations;  but  there's 
one  thing,  Tom  Sawyer—if  we  go  to  tearing  up  our 
sheets  to  make  Jim  a  rope  ladder,  we're  going  to  get 
into  trouble  with  Aunt  Sally,  just  as  sure  as  you're 
born.  Now,  the  way  I  look  at  it,  a  hickry-bark  lad- 
der don't  cost  nothing,  and  don't  waste  nothing,  and 
is  just  as  good  to  load  up  a  pie  with,  and  hide  in  a 
straw  tick,  as  any  rag  ladder  you  can  start ;  and  as  for 
Jim,  he  ain't  had  no  experience,  and  so  he  don't  care 
what  kind  of  a — " 

333 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Oh,  shucks,  Huck  Finn,  if  I  was  as  ignorant  as 
you  I'd  keep  still — that's  what  I'd  do.  Who  fever 
heard  of  a  state  prisoner  escaping  by  a  hickry/bark 
ladder?   Why,  it's  perfectly  ridiculous." 

"Well,  all  right,  Tom,  fix  it  your  own  way;  but  if 
you'll  take  my  advice,  you'll  let  me  borrow  a  sheet 
off  of  the  clothes-line." 

He  said  that  would  do.  And  that  gave  him  another 
idea,  and  he  says : 

"Borrow  a  shirt,  too." 

"What  do  we  want  of  a  shirt,  Tom?" 

"Want  it  for  Jim  to  keep  a  journal  on." 

"Journal  your  granny — Jim  can't  write." 

"S'pose  he  can't  write — he  can  make  marks  on 
the  shirt,  can't  he,  if  we  make  him  a  pen  out  of 
an  old  pewter  spoon  or  a  piece  of  an  old  iron  barrel- 
hoop?" 

"Why,  Tom,  we  can  pull  a  feather  out  of  a  goose 
and  make  him  a  better  one;  and  quicker,  too." 

"Prisoners  don't  have  geese  running  around  the 
donjon-keep  to  pull  pens  out  of,  you  muggins.  They 
always  make  their  pens  out  of  the  hardest,  toughest, 
troublesomest  piece  of  old  brass  candlestick  or  some- 
thing like  that  they  can  get  their  hands  on;  and  it 
takes  them  weeks  and  weeks  and  months  and  months 
to  file  it  out,  too,  because  they've  got  to  do  it  by  rub- 
bing it  on  the  wall.  They  wouldn't  use  a  goose-quill 
if  they  had  it.    It  ain't  regular." 

"Well,  then,  what  11  we  make  him  the  ink  out  of?" 

"Many  makes  it  out  of  iron-rust  and  tears;  but 
that's  the  common  sort  and  women ;  the  best  authori- 
ties uses  their  own  blood.    Jim  can  do  that ;  and  when 

334 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


he  wants  to  send  any  little  common  ordinary  mys- 
terious message  to  let  the  world  know  where  he's 
captivated,  he  can  write  it  on  the  bottom  of  a  tin 
plate  with  a  fork  and  throw  it  out  of  the  window. 
The  Iron  Mask  always  done  that,  and  it's  a  blame' 
good  way,  too." 

"Jim  ain't  got  no  tin  plates.  They  feed  him  in  a 
pan." 

"That  ain't  nothing;  we  can  get  him  some." 

"Can't  nobody  read  his  plates." 

"That  ain't  got  anything  to  do  with  it,  Huck  Finn. 
.All  he's  got  to  do  is  to  write  on  the  plate  and  throw 
it  out.  You  don't  have  to  be  able  to  read  it.  Why, 
half  the  time  you  can't  read  anything  a  prisoner 
writes  on  a  tin  plate,  or  anywhere  else." 

"Well,  then,  what's  the  sense  in  wasting  the 
plates?" 

"Why,  blame  it  all,  it  ain't  the  prisoner's  plates." 
"But  it's  somebody's  plates,  ain't  it?" 
"Well,  spos'n  it  is?   What  does  the  prisoner  care 
whose — " 

He  broke  off  there,  because  we  heard  the  breakfast- 
horn  blowing.    So  we  cleared  out  for  the  house. 

Along  during  the  morning  I  borrowed  a  sheet  and  a 
white  shirt  off  of  the  clothes-line;  and  I  found  an  old 
sack  and  put  them  in  it,  and  we  went  down  and  got 
the  fox-fire,  and  put  that  in  too.  I  called  it  borrow- 
ing, because  that  was  what  pap  always  called  it;  but 
Tom  said  it  warn't  borrowing,  it  was  stealing.  He 
said  we  was  representing  prisoners;  and  prisoners 
don't  care  how  they  get  a  thing  so  they  get  it,  and 
nobody  don't  blame  them  for  it,  either.    It  ain't  no 

335 


MARK  TWAIN 


crime  in  a  prisoner  to  steal  the  thing  he  needs  to 
get  away  with,  Tom  said;  it's  his  right;  and  so,  as 
long  as  we  was  representing  a  prisoner,  we  had  a 
perfect  right  to  steal  anything  on  this  place  we  had 
the  least  use  for  to  get  ourselves  out  of  prison  with. 
He  said  if  we  warn't  prisoners  it  would  be  a  very 
different  thing,  and  nobody  but  a  mean,  ornery  per- 
son would  steal  when  he  warn't  a  prisoner.  So  we 
allowed  we  would  steal  everything  there  was  that 
come  handy.  And  yet  he  made  a  mighty  fuss,  one 
day,  after  that,  when  I  stole  a  watermelon  out  of  the 
nigger  patch  and  eat  it ;  and  he  made  me  go  and  give 
the  niggers  a  dime  without  telling  them  what  it  was 
for.  Tom  said  that  what  he  meant  was,  we  could 
steal  anything  we  needed.  Well,  I  says,  I  needed  the 
watermelon.  But  he  said  I  didn't  need  it  to  get  out 
of  prison  with;  there's  where  the  difference  was. 
He  said  if  I'd  'a'  wanted  it  to  hide  a  knife  in,  and 
smuggle  it  to  Jim  to  kill  the  seneskal  with,  it  would 
'a'  been  all  right.  So  I  let  it  go  at  that,  though  I 
couldn't  see  no  advantage  in  my  representing  a 
prisoner  if  I  got  to  set  down  and  chaw  over  a  lot 
of  gold-leaf  distinctions  like  that  every  time  I  see  a 
chance  to  hog  a  watermelon. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  we  waited  that  morning  till 
everybody  was  settled  down  to  business,  and  nobody 
in  sight  around  the  yard;  then  Tom  he  carried  the 
sack  into  the  lean-to  whilst  I  stood  off  a  piece  to  keep 
watch.  By  and  by  he  come  out,  and  we  went  and  set 
down  on  the  woodpile  to  talk.    He  says: 

" Everything's  all  right  now  except  tools;  and 
that's  easy  fixed." 

336 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Tools?"  I  says. 
"Yes." 

"Tools  for  what?" 

"Why,  to  dig  with.  We  ain't  a-going  to  gnaw  him 
out,  are  we?" 

"Ain't  them  old  crippled  picks  and  things  in  there 
good  enough  to  dig  a  nigger  out  with?"  I  says. 

He  turns  on  me,  looking  pitying  enough  to  make  a 
body  cry,  and  says : 

"Huck  Finn,  did  you  ever  hear  of  a  prisoner  having 
picks  and  shovels,  and  all  the  modem  conveniences  in 
his  wardrobe  to  dig  himself  out  with  ?  Now  I  want  to 
ask  you — if  you  got  any  reasonableness  in  you  at  all 
—what  kind  of  a  show  would  that  give  him  to  be  a 
hero  ?  Why,  they  might  as  well  lend  him  the  key  and 
done  with  it.  Picks  and  shovels — why,  they  wouldn't 
furnish  'em  to  a  king." 

"Well,  then,"  I  says,  "if  we  don't  want  the  picks 
and  shovels,  what  do  we  want?" 

"A  couple  of  case-knives." 

"To  dig  the  foundations  out  from  under  that  cabin 
with?" 

"Yes." 

"Confound  it,  it's  foolish,  Tom." 

"It  don't  make  no  difference  how  foolish  it  is,  it's 
the  right  way— and  it's  the  regular  way.  And  there 
ain't  no  other  way,  that  ever  I  heard  of,  and  I've  read 
all  the  books  that  gives  any  information  about  these 
things.  They  always  dig  out  with  a  case-knife — and 
not  through  dirt,  mind  you;  generly  it's  through 
solid  rock.  And  it  takes  them  weeks  and  weeks  and 
weeks,  and  for  ever  and  ever.    Why,  look  at  one  of 


MARK  TWAIN 


them  prisoners  in  the  bottom  dungeon  of  the  Castle 
Deef,  in  the  harbor  of  Marseilles,  that  dug  himself 
out  that  way;  how  long  was  he  at  it,  you  reckon?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Well,  guess." 

"X  don't  know.    A  month  and  a  half." 

"Thirty-seven  year — and  he  come  out  in  China. 
That's  the  kind.  I  wish  the  bottom  of  this  fortress 
was  solid  rock." 

"Jim  don't  know  nobody  in  China." 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?  Neither  did  that 
other  fellow.  But  you're  always  a-wandering  off  on 
a  side  issue.  Why  can't  you  stick  to  the  main 
point?" 

"All  right — I  don't  care  where  he  comes  out,  so  he 
comes  out;  and  Jim  don't,  either,  I  reckon.  But 
there's  one  thing,  anyway — Jim's  too  old  to  be  dug 
out  with  a  case-knife.    He  won't  last." 

* 4  Yes  he  will  last,  too.  You  don't  reckon  it's  going 
to  take  thirty-seven  years  to  dig  out  through  a  dirt 
foundation,  do  you?" 

"How  long  will  it  take,  Tom?" 

"Well,  we  can't  resk  being  as  long  as  we  ought  to, 
because  it  mayn't  take  very  long  for  Uncle  Silas  to 
hear  from  down  there  by  New  Orleans.  He'll  hear 
Jim  ain't  from  there.  Then  his  next  move  will  be  to 
advertise  Jim,  or  something  like  that.  So  we  can't 
resk  being  as  long  digging  him  out  as  we  ought  to. 
By  rights  I  reckon  we  ought  to  be  a  couple  of  years; 
but  we  can't.  Things  being  so  uncertain,  what  I 
recommend  is  this:  that  we  really  dig  right  in,  as 
quick  as  we  can;  and  after  that,  we  can  let  on.  to 

33S 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

ourselves,  that  we  was  at  it  thirty-seven  years. 
Then  we  can  snatch  him  out  and  rush  him  away 
the  first  time  there's  an  alarm.  Yes,  I  reckon  that  '11 
be  the  best  way." 

' '  Now,  there's  sense  in  that,"  I  says.  ' ' Letting  on 
don't  cost  nothing;  letting  on  ain't  no  trouble;  and 
if  it's  any  object,  I  don't  mind  letting  on  we  was  at  it 
a  hundred  and  fifty  year.  It  wouldn't  strain  me 
none,  after  I  got  my  hand  in.  So  I'll  mosey  along 
now,  and  smouch  a  couple  of  case-knives." 

"Smouch  three,"  he  says;  "we  want  one  to  make 
a  saw  out  of." 

"Tom,  if  it  ain't  unregular  and  irreligious  to  sejest 
it,"  I  says,  "there's  an  old  rusty  saw-blade  around 
yonder  sticking  under  the  weather-boarding  behind 
the  smokehouse." 

He  looked  kind  of  weary  and  discouraged-like,  and 
says: 

"It  ain't  no  use  to  try  to  learn  you  nothing,  Huck. 
Run  along  and  smouch  the  knives — three  of  them." 
So  I  done  it. 


339 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


AS  soon  as  we  reckoned  everybody  was  asleep 
i  \  that  night  we  went  down  the  lightning-rod,  and 
shut  ourselves  up  in  the  lean-to,  and  got  out  our 
pile  of  fox-fire,  and  went  to  work.  We  cleared 
everything  out  of  the  way,  about  four  or  five  foot 
along  the  middle  of  the  bottom  log.  Tom  said  we 
was  right  behind  Jim's  bed  now,  and  we'd  dig  in 
under  it,  and  when  we  got  through  there  couldn't 
nobody  in  the  cabin  ever  know  there  was  any  hole 
there,  because  Jim's  counterpin  hung  down  most  to 
the  ground,  and  you'd  have  to  raise  it  up  and  look 
under  to  see  the  hole.  So  we  dug  and  dug  with  the 
case-knives  till  most  midnight;  and  then  we  was 
dog-tired,  and  our  hands  was  blistered,  and  yet  you 
couldn't  see  we'd  done  anything  hardly.  At  last 
I  says: 

"This  ain't  no  thirty-seven-year  job;  this  is  a 
thirty-eight-year  job,  Tom  Sawyer." 

He  never  said  nothing.  But  he  sighed,  and  pretty 
soon  he  stopped  digging,  and  then  for  a  good  little 
while  I  knowed  that  he  was  thinking.    Then  he  says : 

"It  ain't  no  use,  Huck,  it  ain't  a-going  to  work. 
If  we  was  prisoners  it  would,  because  then  we'd  have 
as  many  years  as  we  wanted,  and  no  hurry;  and  we 
wouldn't  get  but  a  few  minutes  to  dig,  every  day, 

34o 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


while  they  was  changing  watches,  and  so  our  hands 
wouldn't  get  blistered,  and  we  could  keep  it  up  right 
along,  year  in  and  year  out,  and  do  it  right,  and  the 
way  it  ought  to  be  done.  But  we  can't  fool  along; 
we  got  to  rush;  we  ain't  got  no  time  to  spare.  If 
we  was  to  put  in  another  night  this  way  we'd  hare 
to  knock  off  for  a  week  to  let  our  hands  get  well — a 
couldn't  touch  a  case-knife  with  them  sooner." 

"Well,  then,  what  we  going  to  do,  Tom?" 

"I'll  tell  you.  It  ain't  right,  and  it  ain't  moral, 
and  I  wouldn't  like  it  to  get  out;  but  there  ain't  only 
just  the  one  way:  we  got  to  dig  him  out  with  the 
picks,  and  let  on  it's  case-knives." 

"Now  you're  talking!"  I  says;  4  *  your  head  gets 
leveler  and  leveler  all  the  time,  Tom  Sawyer,"  I 
says.  " Picks  is  the  thing,  moral  or  no  moral;  and 
as  for  me,  I  don't  care  shucks  for  the  morality  of  it, 
nohow.  When  I  start  in  to  steal  a  nigger,  or  a 
watermelon,  or  a  Sunday-school  book,  I  ain't  no 
ways  particular  how  it's  done  so  it's  done.  What  I 
want  is  my  nigger;  or  what  I  want  is  my  watermelon; 
or  what  I  want  is  my  Sunday-school  book;  and  if  a 
pick's  the  handiest  thing,  that's  the  thing  I'm 
a-going  to  dig  that  nigger  or  that  watermelon  or  that 
Sunday-school  book  out  with ;  and  I  don't  give  a  dead 
rat  what  the  authorities  thinks  about  it  nuther." 

4 * Well,"  he  says,  6 ' there's  excuse  for  picks  and 
letting  on  in  a  case  like  this;  if  it  warn't  so,  I  wouldn't 
approve  of  it,  nor  I  wouldn't  stand  by  and  see  the 
rules  broke — because  right  is  right,  and  wrong  is 
wrong,  and  a  body  ain't  got  no  business  doing  wrong 
when  he  ain't  ignorant  and  knows  better*    It  might 

34* 


MARK  TWAIN 


answer  for  you  to  dig  Jim  out  with  a  pick,  without 
any  letting  on,  because  you  don't  know  no  better; 
but  it  wouldn't  for  me,  because  I  do  know  better,, 
Gimme  a  case-knife." 

He  had  his  own  by  him,  but  I  handed  him  mine,, 
He  flung  it  down,  and  says: 

"  Gimme  a  case-knife.11 

I  didn't  know  just  what  to  do — but  then  I  thought. 
I  scratched  around  amongst  the  old  tools,  and  got 
a  pickax  and  give  it  to  him,  and  he  took  it  and 
went  to  work,  and  never  said  a  word. 

He  was  always  just  that  particular.  Full  of  prin- 
ciple. 

So  then  I  got  a  shovel,  and  then  we  picked  and 
shoveled,  turn  about,  and  made  the  fur  fly.  We 
stuck  to  it  about  a  half  an  hour,  which  was  as  long 
as  we  could  stand  up;  but  we  had  a  good  deal  of  a 
hole  to  show  for  it.  When  I  got  up-stairs  I  looked 
out  at  the  window  and  see  Tom  doing  his  level  best 
with  the  lightning-rod,  but  he  couldn't  come  it,  his 
hands  was  so  sore.    At  last  he  says: 

"It  ain't  no  use,  it  can't  be  done.  What  you 
reckon  I  better  do?    Can't  you  think  of  no  way?" 

'"Yes,"  I  says,  "but  I  reckon  it  ain't  regular. 
Come  up  the  stairs,  and  let  on  it's  a  lightning-rod." 

So  he  done  it. 

Next  day  Tom  stole  a  pewter  spoon  and  a  brass 
candlestick  in  the  house,  for  to  make  some  pens  for 
Jim  out  of,  and  six  tallow  candles ;  and  I  hung  around 
the  nigger  cabins  and  laid  for  a  chance,  and  stole 
three  tin  plates.  Tom  says  it  wasn't  enough;  but 
I  said  nobody  wouldn't  ever  see  the  plates  that  Jim 

342 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


throwed  out,  because  they'd  fall  in  the  dog-fennel 
and  jimpson  weeds  under  the  window-hole — then  we 
could  tote  them  back  and  he  could  use  them  over 
again.    So  Tom  was  satisfied.    Then  he  says: 

"Now,  the  thing  to  study  out  is,  how  to  get  the 
things  to  Jim." 

"Take  them  in  through  the  hole,"  I  says,  "when 
we  get  it  done." 

He  only  just  looked  scornful,  and  said  something 
about  nobody  ever  heard  of  such  an  idiotic  idea,  and 
then  he  went  to  studying.  By  and  by  he  said  he 
had  ciphered  out  two  or  three  ways,  but  there  warn't 
no  need  to  decide  on  any  of  them  yet.  Said  we'd 
got  to  post  Jim  first. 

That  night  we  went  down  the  lightning-rod  a  little 
after  ten,  and  took  one  of  the  candles  along,  and 
listened  under  the  window:hole,  and  heard  Jim 
snoring;  so  we  pitched  it  in,  and  it  didn't  wake  him. 
Then  we  whirled  in  with  the  pick  and  shovel,  and 
in  about  two  hours  and  a  half  the  job  was  done.  We 
crept  in  under  Jim's  bed  and  into  the  cabin,  and 
pawed  around  and  found  the  candle  and  lit  it,  and 
stood  over  Jim  awhile,  and  found  him  looking  hearty 
and  healthy,  and  then  we  woke  him  up  gentle  and 
gradual.  He  was  so  glad  to  see  us  he  most  cried; 
and  called  us  honey,  and  all  the  pet  names  he  could 
think  of;  and  was  for  having  us  hunt  up  a  cold-chisel 
to  cut  the  chain  off  of  his  leg  with  right  away,  and 
clearing  out  without  losing  any  time.  But  Tom  he 
showed  him  how  unregular  it  would  be,  and  set 
down  and  told  him  all  about  our  plans,  and  how  we 
could  alter  them  in  a  minute  any  time  there  was  an 

343 


MARK   TWAIN  ■ 

alarm;  and  not  to  be  the  least  afraid,  because  we 
would  see  he  got  away,  sure.  So  Jim  he  said  it  was 
all  right,  and  we  set  there  and  talked  over  old  times 
awhile,  and  then  Tom  asked  a  lot  of  questions,  and 
when  Jim  told  him  Uncle  Silas  come  in  every  day 
or  two  to  pray  with  him,  and  Aunt  Sally  come  in  to 
see  if  he  was  comfortable  and  had  plenty  to  eat,  and 
both  of  them  was  kind  as  they  could  be,  Tom  says : 

"Now  I  know  how  to  fix  it.  We'll  send  you  some 
things  by  them." 

I  said,  4 ' Don't  do  nothing  of  the  kind;  it's  one  of 
the  most  jackass  ideas  I  ever  struck";  but  he  never 
paid  no  attention  to  me;  went  right  on.  It  was  his 
way  when  he'd  got  his  plans  set. 

So  he  told  Jim  how  we'd  have  to  smuggle  in  the 
rope-ladder  pie  and  other  large  things  by  Nat,  the 
nigger  that  fed  him,  and  he  must  be  on  the  lookout, 
and  not  be  surprised,  and  not  let  Nat  see  him  open 
them ;  and  we  would  put  small  things  in  uncle's  coat 
pockets  and  he  must  steal  them  out;  and  we  would 
tie  things  to  aunt's  apron-strings  or  put  them  in  her 
apron  pocket,  if  we  got  a  chance;  and  told  him  what 
they  would  be  and  what  they  was  for.  And  told  him 
how  to  keep  a  journal  on  the  shirt  with  his  blood, 
and  all  that.  He  told  him  everything.  Jim  he 
couldn't  see  no  sense  in  the  most  of  it,  but  he  allowed 
we  was  white  folks  and  knowed  better  than  him;  so 
he  was  satined,  and  said  he  would  do  it  all  just  as 
Tom  said. 

Jim  had  plenty  corn-cob  pipes  and  tobacco;  so 
we  had  a  right  down  good  sociable  time;  then  we 
crawled  out  through  the  hole,  and  so  home  to  bed, 

344 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

with  hands  that  looked  like  they'd  been  chawed* 
Tom  was  in  high  spirits.  He  said  it  was  the  best 
fun  he  ever  had  in  his  life,  and  the  most  intellectural ; 
and  said  if  he  only  could  see  his  way  to  it  we  would 
keep  it  up  all  the  rest  of  our  lives  and  leave  Jim  to 
our  children  to  get  out;  for  he  believed  Jim  would 
come  to  like  it  better  and  better,  the  more  he  got 
used  to  it.  He  said  that  in  that  way  it  could  be 
strung  out  to  as  much  as  eighty  year,  and  would  be 
the  best  time  on  record.  And  he  said  it  would  make 
us  all  celebrated  that  had  a  hand  in  it. 

In  the  morning  we  went  out  to  the  woodpile  and 
chopped  up  the  brass  candlestick  into  handy  sizes, 
and  Tom  put  them  and  the  pewter  spoon  in  his 
pocket.  Then  we  went  to  the  nigger  cabins,  and 
while  I  got  Nat's  notice  off,  Tom  shoved  a  piece  of 
candlestick  into  the  middle  of  a  corn-pone  that  was 
in  Jim's  pan,  and  we  went  along  with  Nat  to  see 
how  it  would  work,  and  it  just  worked  noble;  when 
Jim  bit  into  it  it  most  mashed  all  his  teeth  out;  and 
there  warn't  ever  anything  could  'a'  worked  better. 
Tom  said  so  himself.  Jim  he  never  let  on.  but  what 
it  was/only  just  a  piece  of  rock  or  something  like  that 
that's  always  getting  into  bread,  you  know;  but  after 
that  he  never  bit  into  nothing  but  what  he  jabbed 
his  fork  into  it  in  three  or  four  places  first. 

And  whilst  we  was  a-standing  there  in  the  dim- 
mish light,  here  comes  a  couple  of  the  hounds  bulging 
in  from  under  Jim's  bed;  and  they  kept  on  piling  in 
till  there  was  eleven  of  them,  and  there  warn't 
hardly  room  in  there  to  get  your  breath.  By  jings, 
we  forgot  to  fasten  that  lean-to  door!   The  nigger 

345 


MARK  TWAIN 


Nat  he  only  just  hollered  "Witches"  once,  and 
keeled  over  onto  the  floor  amongst  the  dogs,  and 
begun  to  groan  like  he  was  dying.  Tom  jerked  the 
door  open  and  flung  out  a  slab  of  Jim's  meat,  and 
the  dogs  went  for  it,  and  in  two  seconds  he  was  out 
himself  and  back  again  and  shut  the  door,  and  I 
knowed  he'd  fixed  the  other  door  too.  Then  he 
went  to  work  on  the  nigger,  coaxing  him  and  petting 
him,  and  asking  him  if  he'd  been  imagining  he  saw 
something  again.  He  raised  up,  and  blinked  his 
eyes  around,  and  says: 

"Mars  Sid,  you'll  say  I's  a  fool,  but  if  I  didn't 
b'lieve  I  see  most  a  million  dogs,  er  devils,  er  some'n3 
I  wisht  I  may  die  right  heah  in  dese  tracks.  I  did, 
mos'  sholy.  Mars  Sid,  I  felt  um — I  felt  urn,  sah; 
dey  was  all  over  me.  Dad  fetch  it,  I  jis'  wisht  I 
could  git  my  han's  on  one  er  dem  witches  jis'  wunst 
— on'y  jis'  wunst — it's  all  I'd  ast.  But  mos'ly  I 
wisht  dey'd  lemme  'lone,  I  does." 

Tom  says: 

"Well,  I  tell  you  what  I  think.  What  makes 
them  come  here  just  at  this  runaway  nigger's  break- 
fast-time? It's  because  they're  hungry;  that's  the 
reason.  You  make  them  a  witch  pie;  that's  the 
thing  for  you  to  do." 

"But  my  lan',  Mars  Sid,  how's  I  gwyne  to  make 
'm  a  witch  pie?  I  doan'  know  how  to  make  it.  I 
hain't  ever  hearn  er  sich  a  thing  b'fo'." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  have  to  make  it  myself." 

"Will  you  do  it,  honey? — will  you?  I'll  wusshup 
de  groun'  und'  yo'  foot,  I  will!" 

"All  right,  I'll  do  it,  seeing  it's  you,  and  you've 

346 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


been  good  to  us  and  showed  us  the  runaway  nigger. 
But  you  got  to  be  mighty  careful.  When  we  come 
around,  you  turn  your  back;  and  then  whatever 
we've  put  in  the  pan,  don't  you  let  on  you  see  it  at 
all.  And  don't  you  look  when  Jim  unloads  the  pan 
—something  might  happen,  I  don't  know  what. 
And  above  all,  don't  you  handle  the  witch  things.'* 
"Hannei  'm,  Mars  Sid?  What  is  you  a-talkins 
8bout?  I  wouldn*  lay  de  weight  er  my  finger  on 
urn,  not  f'r  ten  hund'd  thous'n  billion  dollars*,  I 
wouk?nV 


t 


347 


M.T.-3-12 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


HPHAT  was  all  fixed.  So  then  we  went  away  and 
1  went  to  the  rubbage-pile  in  the  back  yard, 
where  they  keep  the  old  boots,  and  rags,  and  pieces 
of  bottles,  and  wore-out  tin  things,  and  all  such 
truck,  and  scratched  around  and  found  an  old  tin 
washpan,  and  stopped  up  the  holes  as  well  as  we 
could,  to  bake  the  pie  in,  and  took  it  down  cellar  and 
stole  it  full  of  flour  and  started  for  breakfast,  and 
found  a  couple  of  shingle-nails  that  Tom  said  would 
be  handy  for  a  prisoner  to  scrabble  his  name  and 
sorrows  on  the  dungeon  walls  with,  and  dropped  one 
of  them  in  Aunt  Sally's  apron  pocket  which  was 
hanging  on  a  chair,  and  t'other  we  stuck  in  the  band 
of  Uncle  Silas's  hat,  which  was  on  the  bureau,  be- 
cause we  heard  the  children  say  their  pa  and  ma  was 
going  to  the  runaway  nigger's  house  this  morning, 
and  then  went  to  breakfast,  and  Tom  dropped  the 
pewter  spoon  in  Uncle  Silas's  coat  pocket,  and  Aunt 
Sally  wasn't  cpme  yet,  so  we  had  to  wait  a  little 
while. 

And  when  she  come  she  was  hot  and  red  and  cross, 
and  couldn't  hardly  wait  for  the  blessing;  and  then 
she  went  to  sluicing  out  coffee  with  one  hand  and 
cracking  the  handiest  child's  head  with  her  thimbk 
with  the  other,  and  says: 

348 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"I've  hunted  high  and  I've  hunted  low,  and  it 
does  beat  all  what  has  become  of  your  other  shirt.*5 

My  heart  fell  down  amongst  my  lungs  and  livers 
and  things,  and  a  hard  piece  of  corn-crust  started 
down  my  throat  after  it  and  got  met  on  the  road 
with  a  cough,  and  was  shot  across  the  table,  and 
took  one  of  the  children  in  the  eye  and  curled  him 
up  like  a  fishing-worm,  and  let  a  cry  out  of  him  the 
size  of  a  war-whoop,  and  Tom  he  turned  km&as?  blue 
around  the  gills,  and  it  all  amounted  to  a  consider- 
able state  of  things  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  minute 
or  as  much  as  that,  and  I  would  'a*  sold  out  for  half 
price  if  there  was  a  bidder.  But  after  that  we  was 
all  right  again—it  was  the  sudden  surprise  of  it  that 
knocked  us  so  kind  of  cold.    Uncle  Silas  he  says: 

"It's  most  uncommon  curious,  I  can't  understand 
it.    I  know  perfectly  well  I  took  it  off,  because—'* 

f 'Because  you  hain't  got  but  one  on.  Just  listen 
at  the  man!  I  know  you  took  it  off,  and  know  it  by 
a  better  way  than  your  wool-gethering  memory,  too, 
because  it  was  on  the  clo's-line  yesterday— I  see  it 
there  myself.  But  it's  gone,  that's  the  long  and  the 
short  of  it,  and  you'll  just  have  to  change  to  a  red 
fianri'l  one  till  I  can  get  time  to  make  a  new  one. 
And  it  '11  be  the  third  I've  made  in  two  years.  It 
just  keeps  a  body  on  the  jump  to  keep  you  in  shirts; 
and  whatever  you  do  manage  to  do  with  'm  all  k 
more'n  I  can  make  out.  A  body'd  think  you  woula 
learn  to  take  some  sort  of  care  of  'em  at  your  time 
of  life." 

"I  know  it,  Sally,  and  I  do  try  all  I  can.  But  it 
oughtn't  to  be  altogether  my  fault,  because*  you 

349 


MARK  TWAIN 


know,  I  don't  see  them  nor  have  nothing  to  do  with 
them  except  when  they're  on  me;  and  I  don't  believe 
I've  ever  lost  one  of  them  off  of  me." 

1 '  Well,  it  ain't  your  fault  if  you  haven't,  Silas:, 
you'd  'a'  done  it  if  you  could,  I  reckon.  And  the  shirt 
ain't  all  that's  gone,  nuther.  Ther's  a  spoon  gone; 
and  that  ain't  all.  There  was  ten,  and  now  ther's 
only  nine.  The  calf  got  the  shirt,  I  reckon,  but  the 
calf  never  took  the  spoon,  that's  certain." 

"Why,  what  else  is  gone,  Sally?" 

"Ther's  six  candles  gone — that's  what.  The  rats 
could  'a'  got  the  candles,  and  I  reckon  they  did;  I 
wonder  they  don't  walk  off  with  the  whole  place,  the 
way  you're  always  going  to  stop  their  holes  and 
don't  do  it;  and  if  they  warn't  fools  they'd  sleep  in 
your  hair,  Silas — you'd  never  find  it  out;  but  you 
can't  lay  the  spoon  on  the  rats,  and  that  I  know." 

"Well,  Sally,  I'm  in  fault,  and  I  acknowledge  it; 
I've  been  remiss;  but  I  won't  let  to-morrow  go  by 
without  stopping  up  them  holes." 

"Oh,  I  wouldn't  hurry;  next  year  '11  do.  Matilda 
Angelina  Araminta  Phelps!" 

Whack  comes  the  thimble,  and  the  child  snatches 
her  claws  out  of  the  sugar-bowl  without  fooling 
around  any.  Just  then  the  nigger  woman  steps  on- 
to  the  passage,  and  says: 

"Missus,  dey's  a  sheet  gone." 

"A  sheet  gone!   Well,  for  the  land's  sake!" 

"I'll  stop  up  them  holes  to-day,"  says  Uncle  Silas, 
looking  sorrowful. 

"Oh,  do  shet  up! — s'pcse  the  rats  took  the  sheet  f 
Where's  it  gone,  Lize?" 

35o 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"Clah  to  goodness  I  hain't  no  notion,  Miss'  Sally. 
She  wuz  on  de  clo's-line  yistiddy,  but  she  done  gone: 
she  am*  dah  no  mo'  now." 

"I  reckon  the  world  is  coming  to  an  end.  I  never 
see  the  beat  of  it  in  all  my  born  days.  A  shirt,  and 
a  sheet,  and  a  spoon,  and  six  can — " 

"Missus,"  comes  a  young  yaller  wench,  "dey's  a 
brass  cannelstick  miss'n." 

"Cler  out  from  here,  you  hussy,  er  I'll  take  a 
skillet  to  ye!" 

Well,  she  was  just  a-biling.  I  begun  to  lay  for  a 
chance;  I  reckoned  I  would  sneak  out  and  go  for  the 
woods  till  the  weather  moderated.  She  kept  a-raging 
right  along,  running  her  insurrection  all  by  herself, 
and  everybody  else  mighty  meek  and  quiet;  and  at 
last  Uncle  Silas,  looking  kind  of  foolish,  fishes  up 
that  spoon  out  of  his  pocket.  She  stopped,  with  her 
mouth  open  and  her  hands  up;  and  as  for  me,  I 
wished  I  was  in  Jeruslem  or  somewheres.  But  not 
long,  because  she  says: 

"It's  just  as  I  expected.  So  you  had  it  in  your 
pocket  all  the  time;  and  like  as  not  you've  got  the 
other  things  there,  too.    How'd  it  get  there?" 

"I  reely  don't  know,  Sally,"  he  says,  kind  of 
apologizing,  "or  you  know  I  would  tell.  I  was 
a-studying  over  my  text  in  Acts  Seventeen  before 
breakfast,  and  I  reckon  I  put  it  in  there,  not  noticing, 
meaning  to  put  my  Testament  in,  and  it  must  be  so, 
because  my  Testament  ain't  in;  but  I'll  go  and  see; 
and  if  the  Testament  is  where  I  had  it,  I'll  know  I 
didn't  put  it  in,  and  that  will  show  that  I  laid  the 
Testament  down  and  took  up  the  spoon,  and — " 

35i 


MARK  TWAIN 


6 4 Oh,  for  the  land's  sake!  Give  a  body  a  rest. 
Go  'long  now,  the  whole  kit  and  biling  of  ye;  and 
don't  come  nigh  me  again  till  I've  got  back  my  peace 
Of  mind." 

Td  'a'  heard  her  if  she'd  'a'  said  it  to  herself,  let 
alone  speaking  it  out;  and  I'd  'a'  got  up  and  obeyed 
her  if  I'd  'a'  been  dead.  As  we  was  passing  through 
the  setting-room  the  old  man  he  took  up  his  hat,  and 
the  shingle-nail  fell  out  on  the  floor,  and  he  just 
merely  picked  it  up  and  laid  it  on  the  mantel-shelf, 
and  never  said  nothing,  and  went  out.  Tom  see 
him  do  it,  and  remembered  about  the  spoon,  and 
says : 

"Well,  it  ain't  no  use  to  send  things  by  him  no 
more,  he  ain't  reliable."  Then  he  says:  "But  he 
done  us  a  good  turn  with  the  spoon,  anyway,  with- 
out knowing  it,  and  so  we'll  go  and  do  him  one 
without  him  knowing  it — stop  up  his  rat-holes." 

There  was  a  noble  good  lot  of  them  down  cellar, 
and  it  took  us  a  whole  hour,  but  we  done  the  job 
tight  and  good  and  shipshape.  Then  we  heard 
steps  on  the  stairs,  and  bio  wed  out  our  light  and  hid ; 
and  here  comes  the  old  man,  with  a  candle  in  one 
hand  and  a  bundle  of  stuff  in  t'other,  looking  as 
absent-minded  as  year  before  last.  He  went  a-moon- 
ing  around,  first  to  one  rat -hole  and  then  another, 
till  he'd  been  to  them  all.  Then  he  stood  about  five 
minutes,  picking  tallow-drip  off  of  his  candle  and 
thinking.  Then  he  turns  off  slow  and  dreamy  tow- 
ards the  stairs,  saying: 

"Well,  for  the  life  of  me  I  can't  remember  when 
I  done  it.    I  could  show  her  now  that  I  wara't  to 

352 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


blame  on  account  of  the  rats.  But  never  mind — let 
it  go.    I  reckon  it  wouldn't  do  no  good." 

And  so  he  went  on  a-mumbling  up-stairs,  and  then 
we  left.  He  was  a  mighty  nice  old  man.  And 
always  is. 

Tom  was  a  good  deal  bothered  about  what  to  do 
for  a  spoon,  but  he  said  we'd  got  to  have  it;  so  he 
took  a  think.  When  he  had  ciphered  it  out  he  told 
me  how  we  was  to  do;  then  we  went  and  waited 
around  the  spoon-basket  till  we  see  Aunt  Sally 
coming,  and  then  Tom  went  to  counting  the  spoons 
and  laying  them  out  to  one  side,  and  I  slid  one  of 
them  up  my  sleeve,  and  Tom  says: 

"Why,  Aunt  Sally,  there  ain't  but  nine  spoons 
yet." 

She  says: 

"Go  'long  to  your  play,  and  don't  bother  me.  I 
know  better,  I  counted 'm  myself." 

"Well,  I've  counted  them  twice,  Aunty,  and  I 
can't  make  but  nine." 

She  looked  out  of  all  patience,  but  of  course  she 
come  to  count — anybody  would. 

"I  declare  to  gracious  ther'  ain't  but  nine!"  she 
says.  "Why,  what  in  the  world—plague  take  the 
things,  I'll  count 'm  again." 

So  I  slipped  back  the  one  I  had,  and  when  she  got 
done  counting,  she  says: 

"Hang  the  troublesome  rubbage,  ther's  ten  now!" 
and  she  looked  huffy  and  bothered  both.  But  Tom 
says : 

"Why,  Aunty,  J  don't  think  there's  ten." 
"You  numskull,  didn't  you  see  me  count 'm?" 
3  S3 


MARK  TWAIN 


"I  know,  but—" 

"Well,  I'll  count 'm  again." 

So  I  smouched  one,  and  they  come  out  nine,  same 
as  the  other  time.  Well,  she  was  in  a  tearing  way 
— just  a-trernbling  all  over,  she  was  so  mad.  But 
she  counted  and  counted  till  she  got  that  addled 
she'd  start  to  count  in  the  basket  for  a  spoon  some- 
times; and  so,  three  times  they  come  out  right,  and 
three  times  they  come  out  wrong.  Then  she  grabbed 
up  the  basket  and  slammed  it  across  the  house  and 
knocked  the  cat  galley-west;  and  she  said  cler  out 
and  let  her  have  some  peace,  and  if  we  come  bother- 
ing around  her  again  betwixt  that  and  dinner  she'd 
skin  us.  So  we  had  the  odd  spoon,  and  dropped  it 
in  her  apron  pocket  whilst  she  was  a-giving  us  our 
sailing  orders,  and  Jim  got  it  all  right,  along  with 
her  shingle  -  nail,  before  noon.  We  was  very  well 
satisfied  with  this  business,  and  Tom  allowed  it  was 
worth  twice  the  trouble  it  took,  because  he  said  now 
she  couldn't  ever  count  them  spoons  twice  alike 
again  to  save  her  life;  and  wouldn't  believe  she'd 
counted  them  right  if  she  did;  and  said  that  after 
she'd  about  counted  her  head  off  for  the  next  three 
days  he  judged  she'd  give  it  up  and  offer  to  kill  any- 
body that  wanted  her  to  ever  count  them  any  more. 

So  we  put  the  sheet  back  on  the  line  that  night, 
and  stole  one  out  of  her  closet;  and  kept  on  putting 
it  back  and  stealing  it  again  for  a  couple  of  days  till 
she  didn't  know  how  many  sheets  she  had  any  more, 
and  she  didn't  care,  and  warn't  a-going  to  bullyrag 
the  rest  of  her  soul  out  about  it,  and  wouldn't  count 
them  again  not  to  save  her  life;  she  druther  die  first. 

354 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


So  we  was  all  right  now,  as  to  the  shirt  and  the 
sheet  and  the  spoon  and  the  candles,  by  the  help  of 
the  calf  and  the  rats  and  the  mixed-up  counting;  and 
as  to  the  candlestick,  it  warn't  no  consequence,  it 
would  blow  over  by  and  by. 

But  that  pie  was  a  job;  we  had  no  end  of  trouble 
with  that  pie.  We  fixed  it  up  away  down  in  the 
woods,  and  cooked  it  there;  and  we  got  it  done  at 
last,  and  very  satisfactory,  too;  but  not  all  in  one 
day;  and  we  had  to  use  up  three  washpans  full  of 
flour  before  we  got  through,  and  we  got  burnt  pretty 
much  all  over,  in  places,  and  eyes  put  out  with  the 
smoke;  because,  you  see,  we  didn't  want  nothing  but 
a  crust,  and  we  couldn't  prop  it  up  right,  and  she 
would  always  cave  in.  But  of  course  we  thought  of 
the  right  way  at  last — which  was  to  cook  the  ladder, 
too,  in  the  pie.  So  then  we  laid  in  with  Jim  the 
second  night,  and  tore  up  the  sheet  all  in  little  strings 
and  twisted  them  together,  and  long  before  daylight 
we  had  a  lovely  rope  that  you  could  'a'  hung  a  person 
with.    We  let  on  it  took  nine  months  to  make  it. 

And  in  the  forenoon  we  took  it  down  to  the  woods, 
but  it  wouldn't  go  into  the  pie.  Being  made  of  a 
whole  sheet,  that  way,  there  was  rope  enough  for 
forty  pies  if  we'd  'a'  wanted  them,  and  plenty  left 
over  for  soup,  or  sausage,  or  anything  you  choose. 
We  could  'a'  had  a  whole  dinner. 

But  we  didn't  need  it.  All  we  needed  was  just 
enough  for  the  pie,  and  so  we  throwed  the  rest 
away.  We  didn't  cook  none  of  the  pies  in  the  wash- 
pan — afraid  the  solder  would  melt;  but  Uncle  Silas 
he  had  a  noble  brass  warming-pan  which  he  thought 

355 


MARK  TWAIN 


considerable  of,  because  it  belonged  to  one  of  his 
ancesters  with  a  long  wooden  handle  that  come  over 
from  England  with  William  the  Conqueror  in  the 
Mayflower  or  one  of  them  early  ships  and  was  hid 
away  up  garret  with  a  lot  of  other  old  pots  and  things 
that  was  valuable,  not  on  account  of  being  any 
account,  because  they  warn't,  but  on  account  of 
them  being  relicts,  you  know,  and  we  snaked  her  out, 
private,  and  took  her  down  there,  but  she  failed  on 
the  first  pies,  because  we  didn't  know  how,  but  she 
come  up  smiling  on  the  last  one.  We  took  and  lined 
her  with  dough,  and  set  her  in  the  coals,  and  loaded 
her  up  with  rag  rope,  and  put  on  a  dough  roof,  and 
shut  down  the  lid,  and  put  hot  embers  on  top,  and 
stood  off  five  foot,  with  the  long  handle,  cool  and 
comfortable,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  she  turned  out  a 
pie  that  was  a  satisfaction  to  look  at.  But  the 
person  that  et  it  would  want  to  fetch  a  couple  of 
kags  of  toothpicks  along,  for  if  that  rope  ladder 
wouldn't  cramp  him  down  to  business  I  don't  know 
nothing  what  I'm  talking  about,  and  lay  him  in 
enough  stomach-ache  to  last  him  till  next  time,  too. 

Nat  didn't  look  when  we  put  the  witch  pie  in  Jim's 
pan ;  and  we  put  the  three  tin  plates  in  the  bottom  of 
the  pan  under  the  vittles;  and  so  Jim  got  everything 
all  right,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  by  himself  he  busted 
into  the  pie  and  hid  the  rope  ladder  inside  of  his 
straw  tick,  and  scratched  some  marks  on  a  tin  plate 
and  throwed  it  out  of  the  window-hole. 


356 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 


MAKING  them  pens  was  a  distressed  tough  job, 
„  and  so  was  the  saw;  and  Jim  allowed  the  in- 
scription was  going  to  be  the  toughest  of  all.  That's 
the  one  which  the  prisoner  has  to  scrabble  on  the 
wall.  But  he  had  to  have  it;  Tom  said  he'd  got  to; 
there  warn't  no  case  of  a  state  prisoner  not  scrabbling 
his  inscription  to  leave  behind,  and  his  coat  of  arms. 

"Look  at  Lady  Jane  Grey,"  he  says;  "look  at 
Gilford  Dudley;  look  at  old  Northumberland !  Why, 
Huck,  s'pose  it  is  considerble  trouble?- — what  you 
going  to  do? — how  you  going  to  get  around  it? 
Jim's  got  to  do  his  inscription  and  coat  of  arms. 
They  all  do." 
Jim  says : 

"Why,  Mars  Tom,  I  hain't  got  no  coat  o'  arm; 
I  hain't  got  nuffn  but  dish  yer  ole  shirt,  en  you 
knows  I  got  to  keep  de  journal  on  dat." 

"Oh,  you  don't  understand,  Jim;  a  coat  of  arms 
is  very  different." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "Jim's  right,  anyway,  when  he  says 
he  ain't  got  no  coat  of  arms,  because  he  hain't." 

"I  reckon  /  knowed  that,"  Tom  says,  "but  you 
bet  he'll  have  one  before  he  goes  out  of  this — 
because  he's  going  out  right,  and  there  ain't  going 
to  be  no  flaws  in  his  record." 

357 


MARK  TWAIN 


So  whilst  me  and  Jim  filed  away  at  the  pens  on  a 
brickbat  apiece,  Jim  a-making  his'n  out  of  the  brass 
and  I  making  mine  out  of  the  spoon,  Tom  set  to 
work  to  think  out  the  coat  of  arms.  By  and  by  he 
said  he'd  struck  so  many  good  ones  he  didn't  hardly 
know  which  to  take,  but  there  was  one  which  he 
reckoned  he'd  decide  on.    He  says: 

"On  the  scutcheon  we'll  have  a  bend  or  in  the 
dexter  base,  a  saltire  murrey  in  the  fess,  with  a  dog, 
couchant,  for  common  charge,  and  under  his  foot  a 
chain  embattled,  for  slavery,  with  a  chevron  vert  in 
a  chief  engrailed,  and  three  invected  lines  on  a  field 
azure,  with  the  nombril  points  rampant  on  a  dancette 
indented;  crest,  a  runaway  nigger,  sable,  with  his 
bundle  over  his  shoulder  on  a  bar  sinister;  and  a 
couple  of  gules  for  supporters,  which  is  you  and 
me;  motto,  Maggiore  fretta,  minor e  alto.  Got  it  out 
of  a  book — means  the  more  haste  the  less  speed." 

"Geewhillikins,"  I  says,  "but  what  does  the  rest 
of  it  mean?" 

"We  ain't  got  no  time  to  bother  over  that,"  he 
says;  "we  got  to  dig  in  like  all  git-out." 

"Well,  anyway,"  I  says,  "what's  some  of  it? 
What's  a  fess?" 

"A  fess — a  fess  is — you  don't  need  to  know  what 
a  fess  is.  Ill  show  him  how  to  make  it  when  he  gets 
to  it." 

"Shucks,  Tom,"  I  says,  "I  think  you  might  tell 
a  person.    What's  a  bar  sinister?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  But  he's  got  to  have  it 
All  the  nobility  does." 

That  was  just  his  way.  If  it  didn't  suit  him  to  ex- 
35S 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


plain  a  thing  to  you,  he  wouldn't  do  it.  You  might 
pump  at  him  a  week,  it  wouldn't  make  no  difference. 

He'd  got  all  that  coat-of-arms  business  fixed,  so 
now  he  started  in  to  finish  up  the  rest  of  that  part 
of  the  work,  which  was  to  plan  out  a  mournful 
inscription — said  Jim  got  to  have  one,  like  they  all 
done.  He  made  up  a  lot,  and  wrote  them  out  on  a 
paper,  and  read  them  off,  so: 

1.  Here  a  captive  heart  busted. 

2.  Here  a  poor  prisoner,  forsook  by  the  world  and 
friends,  fretted  his  sorrowful  life. 

3.  Here  a  lonely  heart  broke,  and  a  worn  spirit  went 
to  its  rest,  after  thirty-seven  years  of  solitary  captivity. 

4.  Here,  homeless  and  friendless,  after  thirty-seven 
years  of  bitter  captivity,  perished  a  noble  stranger, 
natural  son  of  Louis  XIV. 

Tom's  voice  trembled  whilst  he  was  reading  them, 
and  he  most  broke  down.  When  he  got  done  he 
couldn't  no  way  make  up  his  mind  which  one  for 
Jim  to  scrabble  onto  the  wall,  they  was  all  so  good ; 
but  at  last  he  allowed  he  would  let  him  scrabble 
them  all  on.  Jim  said  it  would  take  him  a  year  to 
scrabble  such  a  lot  of  truck  onto  the  logs  with  a 
nail,  and  he  didn't  know  how  to  make  letters,  be- 
sides; but  Tom  said  he  would  block  them  out  for 
him,  and  then  he  wouldn't  have  nothing  to  do  but 
just  follow  the  lines.    Then  pretty  soon  he  says: 

' ' Come  to  think,  the  logs  ain't  a-going  to  do;  they 
don't  have  log  walls  in  a  dungeon:  we  got  to  dig  the 
inscriptions  into  a  rock.    We'll  fetch  a  rock." 

359 


MARK  TWAIN 


Jim  said  the  rock  was  worse  than  the  logs;  he 
said  it  would  take  him  such  a  pison  long  time  to 
dig  them  into  a  rock  he  wouldn't  ever  get  out.  But 
Tom  said  he  would  let  me  help  him  do  it.  Then  he 
took  a  look  to  see  how  me  and  Jim  was  getting  along 
with  the  pens.  It  was  most  pesky  tedious  hard  work 
and  slow,  and  didn't  give  my  hands  no  show  to  get 
well  of  the  sores,  and  we  didn't  seem  to  make  no 
headway,  hardly;  so  Tom  says: 

"I  know  how  to  fix  it.  We  got  to  have  a  rock 
for  the  coat  of  arms  and  mournful  inscriptions,  and 
we  can  kill  two  birds  with  that  same  rock.  There's 
a  gaudy  big  grindstone  down  at  the  mill,  and  we'll 
smouch  it,  and  carve  the  things  on  it,  and  file  out 
the  pens  and  the  saw  on  it,  too." 

It  warn?t  no  slouch  of  an  idea;  and  it  warn't  no 
slouch  of  a  grindstone  nuther;  but  we  allowed  we'd 
tackle  it,  It  warn't  quite  midnight  yet,  so  we 
cleared  out  for  the  mill,  leaving  Jim  at  work.  We 
smouched  the  grindstone,  and  set  out  to  roll  her 
home,  but  it  was  a  most  nation  tough  job.  Some- 
times, do  what  we  could,  we  couldn't  keep  her  from 
falling  over,  and  she  come  mighty  near  mashing  us 
every  time,  Tom  said  she  was  going  to  get  one  of 
us,  sure,  before  we  got  through.  We  got  her  half- 
way; and  then  we  was  plumb  played  out,  and  most 
drownded  with  sweat.  We  see  it  warn't  no  use;  we 
got  to  go  and  fetch  Jim.  So  he  raised  up  his  bed 
and  slid  the  chain  off  of  the  bed-leg,  and  wrapt  it 
round  and  round  his  neck,  and  we  crawled  out 
through  our  hole  and  down  there,  and  Jim  and  me 
laid  into  that  grindstone  and  walked  her  along  like 

*6o 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


nothing;  and  Tom  superintended.  He  could  out- 
superintend  any  boy  I  ever  see.  He  knowed  how  to 
do  everything. 

Our  hole  was  pretty  big,  but  it  warn't  big  enough 
to  get  the  grindstone  through;  but  Jim  he  took  the 
pick  and  soon  made  it  big  enough.  Then  Tom 
marked  out  them  things  on  it  with  the  nail,  and  set 
Jim  to  work  on  them,  with  the  nail  for  a  chisel  and 
an  iron  bolt  from  the  rubbage  in  the  lean-to  for  a 
hammer,  and  told  him  to  work  till  the  rest  of  his 
candle  quit  on  him,  and  then  he  could  go  to  bed, 
and  hide  the  grindstone  under  his  straw  tick  and 
sleep  on  it.  Then  we  helped  him  fix  his  chain  back 
on  the  bed-leg,  and  was  ready  for  bed  ourselves. 
But  Tom  thought  of  something,  and  says: 

"You  got  any  spiders  in  here,  Jim?" 

"No,  sah,  thanks  to -goodness  I  hain't,  Mars  Tom.'5 

"All  right,  well  get  you  some." 

"But  bless  you,  honey,  I  doan'  want  none.  I's 
afeard  un  um.  I  jis'  's  soon  have  rattlesnakes  aroun\ ' ' 

Tom  thought  a  minute  or  two,  and  says: 

"It's  a  good  idea.  And  I  reckon  it's  been  done. 
It  must  'a'  been  done;  it  stands  to  reason.  Yes,  it's 
a  prime  good  idea.    Where  could  you  keep  it?" 

"Keep  what,  Mars  Tom?" 

"Why,  a  rattlesnake." 

"De  goodness  gracious  alive,  Mars  Tom!  Why, 
if  dey  was  a  rattlesnake  to  come  in  heah  I'd  take  en 
bust  right  out  thoo  dat  log  wall,  I  would,  wid  my 
head." 

"Why,  Jim,  you  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  it  after  a 
little.    You  could  tame  it." 

361 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Tame  it!" 

'  'Yes — easy  enough.  Every  animal  is  grateful  for 
kindness  and  petting,  and  they  wouldn't  think  of 
hurting  a  person  that  pets  them.  Any  book  will  tell 
you  that.  You  try — that's  all  I  ask;  just  try  for 
two  or  three  days.  Why,  you  can  get  him  so  in  a 
little  while  that  he'll  love  you;  and  sleep  with  you; 
and  won't  stay  away  from  you  a  minute;  and  will  let 
you  wrap  him  round  your  neck  and  put  his  head  in 
your  mouth." 

''Please,  Mars  Tom — doan*  talk  so!  I  can't  stan* 
it!  He'd  let  me  shove  his  head  in  my  mouf — fer  a 
favor,  hain't  it?  I  lay  he'd  wait  a  pow'ful  long  time 
'fo'  I  ast  him.  En  mo'  en  dat,  I  doan'  want  him  to 
sleep  wid  me." 

"Jim,  don't  act  so  foolish.  A  prisoner's  got  to 
have  some  kind  of  a  dumb  pet,  and  if  a  rattlesnake 
hain't  ever  been  tried,  why,  there's  more  glory  to 
be  gained  in  your  being  the  first  to  ever  try  it  than 
any  other  way  you  could  ever  think  of  to  save  your 
life." 

"Why,  Mars  Tom,  I  doan'  want  no  sich  glory. 
Snake  take  'n  bite  Jim's  chin  off,  den  whah  is  de 
glory?    No,  sah,  I  doan'  want  no  sich  doin's." 

"Blame  it,  can't  you  try?  I  only  want  you  to  try 
— you  needn't  keep  it  up  if  it  don't  work." 

"But  de  trouble  all  done  ef  de  snake  bite  me  while 
I's  a-tryin'  him.  Mars  Tom,  I's  willin'  to  tackle 
mos'  anything  'at  ain't  onreasonable,  but  ef  you  en 
Huck  fetches  a  rattlesnake  in  heah  for  me  to  tame, 
I's  gwyne  to  leave,  dat's  shore." 

"Well,  then,  let  it  go,  let  it  go,  if  you're  so  bull- 
362 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


headed  about  it.  We  can  get  you  some  garter- 
snakes,  and  you  can  tie  some  buttons  on  their  tails, 
and  let  on  they're  rattlesnakes,  and  I  reckon  that  '11 
have  to  do." 

"I  k'n  stan'  dem,  Mars  Tom,  but  blame'  'f  I 
couldn'  get  along  widout  urn,  I  tell  you  dat.  1 
never  knowed  b'fo'  'twas  so  much  bother  and  trouble 
to  be  a  prisoner." 

"Well,  it  always  is  when  it's  done  right.  You  got 
any  rats  around  here?" 

"No,  sah,  I  hain't  seed  none." 

"Well,  we'll  get  you  some  rats." 

"Why,  Mars  Tom,  I  doan'  want  no  rats.  Dey's 
de  dadblamedest  creturs  to  'sturb  a  body,  en  rustle 
roun'  over  'im,  en  bite  his  feet,  when  he's  tryin'  to 
sleep,  I  ever  see.  No,  sah,  gimme  g'yarter-snakes, 
'f  I's  got  to  have  'm,  but  doan'  gimme  no  rats;  I 
ham'  got  no  use  f'r  um,  skasely." 

"But,  Jim,  you  got  to  have  'em — they  all  do.  So 
don't  make  no  more  fuss  about  it.  Prisoners  ain't 
ever  without  rats.  There  ain't  no  instance  of  it. 
And  they  train  them,  and  pet  them,  and  learn  them 
tricks,  and  they  get  to  be  as  sociable  as  flies.  But 
you  got  to  play  music  to  them.  You  got  anything 
to  play  music  on?" 

"I  ain'  got  nuffn  but  a  coase  comb  en  a  piece  o' 
paper,  en  a  juice-harp ;  but  I  reck'n  dey  wouldn'  take 
no  stock  in  a  juice-harp." 

"Yes  they  would.  They  don't  care  what  kind  of 
music  'tis.  A  jew's-harp's  plenty  good  enough  for  a 
rat.  All  animals  like  music — in  a  prison  they  dote 
on  it.    Specially,  painful  music;  and  you  can't  get 

363 


MARK  TWAIN 

no  other  kind  out  of  a  jewVharp.  It  always  inter- 
ests them;  they  come  out  to  see  what's  the  master 
with  you.  Yes,  you're  all  right;  you're  fixed  very 
well.  You  want  to  set  on  your  bed  nights  before 
you  go  to  sleep,  and  early  in  the  mornings,  and  play 
your  jew's-harp;  play  'The  Last  Link  is  Broken' — 
that's  the  thing  that  '11  scoop  a  rat  quicker  'n  any- 
thing else;  and  when  you've  played  about  two 
minutes  you'll  see  all  the  rats,  and  the  snakes,  and 
spiders  and  things  begin  to  feel  worried  about  you, 
and  come.  And  they'll  just  fairly  swarm  over  you, 
and  have  a  noble  good  time." 

"Yes,  dey  will,  I  reck'n,  Mars  Tom,  but  what  kine 
er  time  is  Jim  havin'?  Blest  if  I  kin  see  de  pint. 
But  I'll  do  it  ef  I  got  to.  I  reck'n  I  better  keep  de 
animals  satisfied,  en  not  have  no  trouble  in  de  house." 

Tom  waited  to  think  it  over,  and  see  if  there 
wasn't  nothing  else;  and  pretty  soon  he  says: 

"Oh,  there's  one  thing  I  forgot.  Could  you  raise 
a  flower  here,  do  you  reckon?" 

"I  doan'  know  but  maybe  I  could,  Mars  Tom; 
but  it's  tolable  dark  in  heah,  en  I  ain'  got  no  use  f 'r 
no  flower,  nohow,  en  she'd  be  a  pow'ful  sight  o' 
trouble." 

"Well,  you  try  it,  anyway.  Some  other  prisoners 
has  done  it." 

"One  er  dem  big  cat-tail-lookin*  mullen-stalks 
would  grow  in  heah,  Mars  Tom,  I  reck'n,  but  she 
wouldn't  be  wuth  half  de  trouble  she'd  coss." 

"Don't  you  believe  it.  We'll  fetch  you  a  little 
one,  and  you  plant  it  in  the  corner  over  there,  and 
raise  it.    And  don't  call  it  mullen,  call  it  Pitchiola— 

364 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


that's  its  right  name  when  it's  in  a  prison.  And  you 
want  to  water  it  with  your  tears." 

"Why,  I  got  plenty  spring  water,  Mars  Tom." 

"You  don't  want  spring  water;  you  want  to  water 
it  with  your  tears.    It's  the  way  they  always  do." 

"Why,  Mars  Tom,  I  lay  I  kin  raise  one  er  dem 
mullen-stalks  twyste  wid  spring  water  whiles  another 
man's  a  start' n  one  wid  tears." 

"That  ain't  the  idea.    You  got  to  do  it  with  tears." 

"She'll  die  on  my  han's,  Mars  Tom,  she  sholy 
will;  kase  I  doan'  skasely  ever  cry." 

So  Tom  was  stumped.  But  he  studied  it  over,  and 
then  said  Jim  would  have  to  worry  along  the  best 
he  could  with  an  onion.  He  promised  he  would  go 
to  the  nigger  cabins  and  drop  one,  private,  in  Jim's 
coffee-pot,  in  the  morning.  Jim  said  he  would 
"jis'  's  soon  have  tobacker  in  his  coffee";  and  found 
so  much  fault  with  it,  and  with  the  work  and  bother 
of  raising  the  mullen,  and  jew 's -harping  the  rats,  and 
petting  and  flattering  up  the  snakes  and  spiders  and 
things,  on  top  of  all  the  other  work  he  had  to  do  on 
pens,  and  inscriptions,  and  journals,  and  things, 
which  made  it  more  trouble  and  worry  and  responsi- 
bility to  be  a  prisoner  than  anything  he  ever  under- 
took, that  Tom  most  lost  all  patience  with  him ;  and 
said  he  was  just  loadened  down  with  more  gaudier 
chances  than  a  prisoner  ever  had  in  the  world  to 
make  a  name  for  himself,  and  yet  he  didn't  know 
enough  to  appreciate  them,  and  they  was  just  about 
wasted  on  him.  So  Jim  he  was  sorry,  and  said  he 
wouldn't  behave  so  no  more,  and  then  me  and  Tom 
shoved  for  bed. 

365 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

IN  the  morning  we  went  up  to  the  village  and 
bought  a  wire  rat-trap  and  fetched  it  down,  and 
unstopped  the  best  rat-hole,  and  in  about  an  hour 
we  had  fifteen  of  the  bulliest  kind  of  ones ;  and  then 
we  took  it  and  put  it  in  a  safe  place  under  Aunt 
Sally's  bed.  But  while  we  was  gone  for  spiders  little 
Thomas  Franklin  Benjamin  Jefferson  Elexander 
Phelps  found  it  there,  and  opened  the  door  of  it  to 
see  if  the  rats  would  come  out,  and  they  did;  and 
Aunt  Sally  she  come  in,  and  when  we  got  back  she 
was  a-standing  on  top  of  the  bed  raising  Cain,  and 
the  rats  was  doing  what  they  could  to  keep  off  the 
dull  times  for  her.  So  she  took  and  dusted  us  both 
with  the  hickry,  and  we  was  as  much  as  two  hours 
catching  another  fifteen  or  sixteen,  drat  that  meddle- 
some cub,  and  they  warn't  the  likeliest,  nuther, 
because  the  first  haul  was  the  pick  of  the  flock.  I 
never  see  a  likelier  lot  of  rats  than  what  that  first 
haul  was. 

We  got  a  splendid  stock  of  sorted  spiders,  and 
bugs,  and  frogs,  and  caterpillars,  and  one  thing  or 
another;  and  we  like  to  got  a  hornet's  nest,  but  we 
didn't.  The  family  was  at  home.  We  didn't  give 
it  right  up,  but  stayed  with  them  as  long  as  we  could; 
because  we  allowed  we'd  tire  them  out  or  they'd  got 

366 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

to  tire  us  out,  and  they  done  it.  Then  we  got 
allycumpain  and  rubbed  on  the  places,  and  was 
pretty  near  all  right  again,  but  couldn't  set  down 
convenient.  And  so  we  went  for  the  snakes,  and 
grabbed  a  couple  of  dozen  garters  and  house-snakes, 
and  put  them  in  a  bag,  and  put  it  in  our  room,  and 
by  that  time  it  was  supper-time,  and  a  rattling  good 
honest  day's  work:  and  hungry? — oh,  no,  I  reckon 
not!  And  there  warn't  a  blessed  snake  up  there 
when  we  went  back — we  didn't  half  tie  the  sack,  and 
they  worked  out  somehow,  and  left.  But  it  didn't 
matter  much,  because  they  was  still  on  the  premises 
somewheres.  So  we  judged  we  could  get  some  of 
them  again.  No,  there  warn't  no  real  scarcity  of 
snakes  about  the  house  for  a  considerable  spell. 
You'd  see  them  dripping  from  the  rafters  and  places 
every  now  and  then;  and  they  generly  landed  in 
your  plate,  or  down  the  back  of  your  neck,  and  most 
of  the  time  where  you  didn't  want  them,  "Well, 
they  was  handsome  and  striped,  and  there  warn't 
no  harm  in  a  million  of  them;  but  that  never  made 
no  difference  to  Aunt  Sally;  she  despised  snakes,  be 
the  breed  what  they  might,  and  she  couldn't  stand 
them  no  way  you  could  fix  it ;  and  every  time  one  of 
them  flopped  down  on  her,  it  didn't  make  no  differ- 
ence what  she  was  doing,  she  would  just  lay  that 
work  down  and  light  out.  I  never  see  such  a  woman. 
And  you  could  hear  her  whoop  to  Jericho.  You 
couldn't  get  her  to  take  a-holt  of  one  of  them  with 
the  tongs.  And  if  she  turned  over  and  found  one 
in  bed  she  would  scramble  out  and  lift  a  howl  that 
you  would  think  the  house  was  afire.    She  disturbed 

367 


MARK  TWAIN 

the  old  man  so  that  he  said  he  could  most  wish  there 
hadn't  ever  been  no  snakes  created.  Why,  after 
every  last  snake  had  been  gone  clear  out  of  the 
house  for  as  much  as  a  week  Aunt  Sally  warn't  over 
it  yet;  she  warn't  near  over  it;  when  she  was  setting 
thinking  about  something  you  could  touch  her  on  the 
back  of  her  neck  with  a  feather  and  she  would  jump 
right  out  of  her  stockings.  It  was  very  curious. 
But  Tom  said  all  women  was  just  so.  He  said  they 
was  made  that  way  for  some  reason  or  other. 

We  got  a  licking  every  time  one  of  our  snakes  come 
in  her  way,  and  she  allowed  these  lickings  warn't 
nothing  to  what  she  would  do  if  we  ever  loaded  up 
the  place  again  with  them.  I  didn't  mind  the  lick- 
ings, because  they  didn't  amount  to  nothing;  but  I 
minded  the  trouble  we  had  to  lay  in  another  lot. 
But  we  got  them  laid  in,  and  all  the  other  things;  and 
you  never  see  a  cabin  as  blithesome  as  Jim's  was 
when  they'd  all  swarm  out  for  music  and  go  for  him* 
Jim  didn't  like  the  spiders,  and  the  spiders  didn't  like 
Jim;  and  so  they'd  lay  for  him,  and  make  it  mighty 
warm  for  him.  And  he  said  that  between  the  rats 
and  the  snakes  and  the  grindstone  there  warn't  no 
room  in  bed  for  him,  skasely;  and  when  there  was, 
a  body  couldn't  sleep,  it  was  so  lively,  and  it  was 
always  lively,  he  said,  because  they  never  all  slept  at 
one  time,  but  took  turn  about,  so  when  the  snakes 
was  asleep  the  rats  was  on  deck,  and  when  the  rats 
turned  in  the  snakes  come  on  watch,  so  he  always 
had  one  gang  under  him,  in  his  way,  and  t'other  gang 
having  a  circus  over  him,  and  if  he  got  up  to  hunt 
a  new  place  the  spiders  would  take  a  chance  at  him 

363 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


as  he  crossed  over.  He  said  if  he  ever  got  out  this 
time  he  wouldn't  ever  be  a  prisoner  again,  not  for 
a  salary. 

Well,  by  the  end  of  three  weeks  everything  was  in 
pretty  good  shape.  The  shirt  was  sent  in  early,  in 
a  pie,  and  every  time  a  rat  bit  Jim  he  would  get  up 
and  write  a  line  in  his  journal  whilst  the  ink  was 
fresh;  the  pens  was  made,  the  inscriptions  and  so  on 
was  all  carved  on  the  grindstone;  the  bed-leg  was 
sawed  in  two,  and  we  had  et  up  the  sawdust,  and  it 
give  us  a  most  amazing  stomach-ache.  We  reckoned 
we  was  all  going  to  die,  but  didn't.  It  was  the  most 
undigestible  sawdust  I  ever  see;  and  Tom  said  the 
same.  But  as  I  was  saying,  we'd  got  all  the  work 
done  now,  at  last ;  and  we  was  all  pretty  much  fagged 
out,  too,  but  mainly  Jim.  The  old  man  had  wrote 
a  couple  of  times  to  the  plantation  below  Orleans  to 
come  and  get  their  runaway  nigger,  but  hadn't  got 
no  answer,  because  there  warn't  no  such  plantation ; 
so  he  allowed  he  would  advertise  Jim  in  the  St.  Louis 
and  New  Orleans  papers ;  and  when  he  mentioned  the 
St.  Louis  ones  it  give  me  the  cold  shivers,  and  I  see 
we  hadn't  no  time  to  lose.  So  Tom  said,  now  for 
the  nonnamous  letters. 

"What's  them?"  I  says. 

"Warnings  to  the  people  that  something  is  up. 
Sometimes  it's  done  one  way,  sometimes  another. 
But  there's  always  somebody  spying  around  that 
gives  notice  to  the  governor  of  the  castle.  When 
Louis  XVI.  was  going  to  light  out  of  the  Tooleries  a 
servant-girl  done  it.  It's  a  very  good  way,  and  so 
is  the  nonnamous  letters.    We'll  use  them  both. 

36? 


MARK  TWAIN 


And  it's  usual  for  the  prisoner's  mother  to  change 
clothes  with  him,  and  she  stays  in,  and  he  slides  out 
in  her  clothes.    We'll  do  that,  too." 

"But  looky  here,  Tom,  what  do  we  want  to  warn 
anybody  for  that  something's  up?  Let  them  find  it 
out  for  themselves — it's  their  lookout." 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  you  can't  depend  on  them. 
It's  the  way  they've  acted  from  the  very  start — left 
us  to  do  everything.  They're  so  confiding  and  mullet- 
headed  they  don't  take  notice  of  nothing  at  all.  So 
if  we  don't  give  them  notice  there  won't  be  nobody 
nor  nothing  to  interfere  with  us,  and  so  after  all  our 
hard  work  and  trouble  this  escape  '11  go  off  perfectly 
flat;  won't  amount  to  nothing — won't  be  nothing 
to  it." 

"Well,  as  for  me,  Tom,  that's  the  way  I'd  like." 

' '  Shucks !"  he  says,  and  looked  disgusted.  So  I  says : 

"But  I  ain't  going  to  make  no  complaint.  Any 
way  that  suits  you  suits  me.  What  you  going  to 
do  about  the  servant-girl?" 

"You'll  be  her.  You  slide  in,  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  and  hook  that  yaller  girl's  frock." 

"Why,  Tom,  that  '11  make  trouble  next  morning; 
because,  of  course,  she  prob'bly  hain't  got  any  but 
that  one." 

"I  know;  but  you  don't  want  it  but  fifteen  min- 
utes, to  carry  the  nonnamous  letter  and  shove  it 
under  the  front  door." 

"All  right,  then,  I'll  do  it;  but  I  could  carry  it  just 
as  handy  in  my  own  togs," 

"You  wouldn't  look  like  a  servant-girl  then,  would 
you?" 

37© 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"No,  but  there  won't  be  nobody  to  see  what  I 
look  like,  anyway" 

"That  ain't  got  nothing  to  do  with  it.  The  thing 
for  us  to  do  is  just  to  do  our  duty,  and  not  worry 
about  whether  anybody  sees  us  do  it  or  not.  Hain't 
you  got  no  principle  at  all?" 

"All  right,  I  ain't  saying  nothing;  I'm  the  servant- 
girl.    Who's  Jim's  mother?" 

"I'm  his  mother.  I'll  hook  a  gown  from  Aunt 
'Sally." 

"Well,  then,  you'll  have  to  stay  in  the  cabin  when 
me  and  Jim  leaves." 

"Not  much.  I'll  stuff  Jim's  clothes  full  of  straw 
and  lay  it  on  his  bed  to  represent  his  mother  in  dis- 
guise, and  Jim  '11  take  the  nigger  woman's  gown 
off  of  me  and  wear  it,  and  we'll  all  evade  together. 
When  a  prisoner  of  style  escapes  it's  called  an  evasion. 
It's  always  called  so  when  a  king  escapes,  f 'rinstance. 
And  the  same  with  a  king's  son;  it  don't  make  no 
difference  whether  he's  a  natural  one  or  an  unnatural 
.one." 

So  Tom  he  wrote  the  nonnamous  letter,  and  I 
smouched  the  yaller  wench's  frock  that  night,  and 
put  it  on,  and  shoved  it  under  the  front  door,  the 
way  Tom  told  me  to.    It  said: 

Beware.    Trouble  is  brewing.   Keep  a  sharp  lookout. 

Unknown  Friend, 

Next  night  we  stuck  a  picture,  which  Tom  drawed 
in  blood,  of  a  skull  and  crossbones  on  the  front  door; 
and  next  night  another  one  of  a  coffin  on  the  back 
door.    I  never  see  a  family  in  such  a  sweat.  They 

37i 


MARK  TWAIN 


couldn't  'a'  been  worse  scared  if  the  place  had  'a'  been 
full  of  ghosts  laying  for  them  behind  everything  and 
under  the  beds  and  shivering  through  the  air.  If  a 
door  banged,  Aunt  Sally  she  jumped  and  said 
"ouch!"  if  anything  fell,  she  jumped  and  said 
"ouch!"  if  you  happened  to  touch  her,  when  she 
warn't  noticing,  she  done  the  same;  she  couldn't  face 
no  way  and  be  satisfied,  because  she  allowed  there  was 
something  behind  her  every  time — so  she  was  always 
a- whirling  around  sudden,  and  saying  "ouch,"  and 
before  she'd  got  two-thirds  around  she'd  whirl  back 
again,  and  say  it  again;  and  she  was  afraid  to  go  to 
bed,  but  she  dasn't  set  up.  So  the  thing  was  working 
very  well,  Tom  said;  he  said  he  never  see  a  thing 
work  more  satisfactory.  He  said  it  showed  it  was 
done  right. 

So  he  said,  now  for  the  grand  bulge!  So  the  very 
next  morning  at  the  streak  of  dawn  we  got  another 
letter  ready,  and  was  wondering  what  we  better  do 
with  it,  because  we  heard  them  say  at  supper  they 
was  going  to  have  a  nigger  on  watch  at  both  doors 
all  night.  Tom  he  went  down  the  lightning-rod  to 
spy  around;  and  the  nigger  at  the  back  door  was 
asleep,  and  he  stuck  it  in  the  back  of  his  neck  and 
come  back.    This  letter  said: 

Don't  betray  me,  I  wish  to  be  your  friend.  There  is  a  desprate 
gang  of  cutthroats  from  over  in  the  Indian  Territory  going  to  steal 
your  runaway  nigger  to-night,  and  they  have  been  trying  to  scare 
you  so  as  you  will  stay  in  the  house  and  not  bother  them.  I  am 
one  of  the  gang,  but  have  got  religgion  and  wish  to  quit  it  and 
lead  an  honest  life  again,  and  will  betray  the  helish  design.  They 
will  sneak  down  from  northards,  along  the  fence,  at  midnight 
exact,  with  a  false  key,  and  go  in  the  nigger's  cabin  to  get  him, 

372 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

/  am  to  be  of  a  piece  and  blow  a  tin  horn  if  I  see  any  danger;  but 
stead  of  that  I  will  ba  like  a  sheep  soon  as  they  get  in  and  not 
blow  at  all;  then  whilst  they  are  getting  his  chains  loose,  you  slip 
there  and  lock  them  in,  and  can  kill  them  at  your  leasure.  Don't 
do  anything  but  just  the  way  I  am  telling  you;  if  you  do  they  will 
suspicion  something  and  raise  whoop-jamboreehoo.  I  do  not  wish 
any  reward  but  to  know  I  have  done  the  right  thing. 

Unknown  Friend, 


373 


CHAPTER  XL 


%  TS  TE  was  feeling  pretty  good  after  breakfast,  and 
V  V  took  my  canoe  and  went  over  the  river  a-fish- 
ing,  with  a  lunch,  and  had  a  good  time,  and  took  a 
look  at  the  raft  and  found  her  all  right,  and  got  home 
late  to  supper,  and  found  them  in  such  a  sweat  and 
worry  they  didn't  know  which  end  they  was  stand- 
ing on,  and  made  us  go  right  off  to  bed  the  minute 
we  was  done  supper,  and  wouldn't  tell  us  what  the 
trouble  was,  and  never  let  on  a  word  about  the  new 
letter,  but  didn't  need  to,  because  we  knowed  as 
much  about  it  as  anybody  did,  and  as  soon  as  we 
was  half  up-stairs  and  her  back  was  turned  we  slid 
for  the  cellar  cubboard  and  loaded  up  a  good  lunch 
and  took  it  up  to  our  room  and  went  to  bed,  and 
got  up  about  half  past  eleven,  and  Tom  put  on 
Aunt  Sally's  dress  that  he  stole  and  was  going  to 
(start  with  the  lunch,  but  says: 
"Where's  the  butter?" 

"I  laid  out  a  hunk  of  it,"  I  says,  "on  a  piece  of  a 

corn-pone." 

"Well,  you  left  it  laid  out,  then — it  ain't  here." 

"We  can  get  along  without  it,"  I  says. 

"We  can  get  along  with  it,  too,"  he  says;  "just 
you  slide  down  cellar  and  fetch  it.  And  then  mosey 
right  down  the  lightning-rod  and  come  along.  I'll 

374 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


go  and  stuff  the  straw  into  Jim's  clothes  to  represent 
his  mother  in  disguise,  and  be  ready  to  ba  like  a 
sheep  and  shove  soon  as  you  get  there." 

So  out  he  went,  and  down  cellar  went  I.  The 
hunk  of  butter,  big  as  a  person's  fist,  was  where  I 
had  left  it,  so  I  took  up  the  slab  of  corn-pone  with 
it  on,  and  blowed  out  my  light,  and  started  up-stairs 
very  stealthy,  and  got  up  to  the  main  floor  all  right, 
but  here  comes  Aunt  Sally  with  a  candle,  and  I 
clapped  the  truck  in  my  hat,  and  clapped  my  hat 
on  my  head,  and  the  next  second  she  see  me;  and 
she  says: 

"You  been  down  cellar?" 

"Yes'm." 

"What  you  been  doing  down  there?" 

"Noth'n." 

"Noth'n!" 

"No'm." 

v  "Well,  then,  what  possessed  you  to  go  down  there 
this  time  of  night?" 
"I  don't  know  W 

"You  don't  know?  Don't  answer  me  that  way. 
Tom,  I  want  to  know  what  you  been  doing  down 
there." 

"I  hain't  been  doing  a  single  thing,  Aunt  Sally, 
I  hope  to  gracious  if  I  have." 

I  reckoned  she'd  let  me  go  now,  and  as  a  generl 
thing  she  would;  but  I  s'pose  there  was  so  many 
strange  things  going  on  she  was  just  in  a  sweat  about 
every  little  thing  that  warn't  yard-stick  straight;  so 
she  says,  very  decided: 

"You  just  march  into  that  setting-room  and  stay 
375 


MARK  TWAIN 


there  till  I  come.  You  been  up  to  something  you 
no  business  to,  and  I  lay  I'll  find  out  what  it  is 
before  Tm  done  with  you." 

So  she  went  away  as  I  opened  the  door  and  walked 
into  the  setting-room.  My,  but  there  was  a  crowd 
there!  Fifteen  farmers,  and  every  one  of  them  had 
a  gun.  I  was  most  powerful  sick,  and  slunk  to  a 
chair  and  set  down.  They  was  setting  around,  some 
of  them  talking  a  little,  in  a  low  voice,  and  all  of 
them  fidgety  and  uneasy,  but  trying  to  look  like  they 
warn't;  but  I  knowed  they  was,  because  they  was 
always  taking  off  their  hats,  and  putting  them  on, 
and  scratching  their  heads,  and  changing  their  seats, 
and  fumbling  with  their  buttons.  I  warn't  easy 
myself,  but  I  didn't  take  my  hat  off,  all  the  same. 

I  did  wish  Aunt  Sally  would  come,  and  get  done 
with  me,  and  lick  me,  if  she  wanted  to,  and  let  me 
get  away  and  tell  Tom  how  we'd  overdone  this  thing, 
and  what  a  thundering  hornet's  nest  we'd  got  our- 
selves into,  so  we  could  stop  fooling  around  straight 
off,  and  clear  out  with  Jim  before  these  rips  got  out 
of  patience  and  come  for  us. 

At  last  she  come  and  begun  to  ask  me  questions,, 
but  I  couldn't  answer  them  straight,  I  didn't  know 
which  end  of  me  was  up;  because  these  men  was  in 
such  a  fidget  now  that  some  was  wanting  to  start 
right  now  and  lay  for  them  desperadoes,  and  saying 
it  warn't  but  a  few  minutes  to  midnight ;  and  others 
was  trying  to  get  them  to  hold  on  and  wait  for  the 
sheep-signal;  and  here  was  Aunty  pegging  away  at 
the  questions,  and  me  a-shaking  all  over  and  ready 
to  sink  down  in  my  tracks  I  was  that  scared ;  and  the 

376 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


place  getting  hotter  and  hotter,  and  the  butter 
beginning  to  melt  and  run  down  my  neck  and  behind 
my  ears;  and  pretty  soon,  when  one  of  them  says, 
"I'm  for  going  and  getting  in  the  cabin  first  and 
right  now,  and  catching  them  when  they  come,"  I 
most  dropped ;  and  a  streak  of  butter  come  a-trickling 
down  my  forehead,  and  Aunt  Sally  she  see  it,  and 
turns  white  as  a  sheet,  and  says: 

"For  the  land's  sake,  what  is  the  matter  with  the 
child?  He's  got  the  brain-fever  as  shore  as  you're 
born,  and  they're  oozing  out!" 

And  everybody  runs  to  see,  and  she  snatches  off 
my  hat,  and  out  comes  the  bread  and  what  was  left 
of  the  butter,  and  she  grabbed  me,  and  hugged  me, 
and  says: 

"Oh,  what  a  turn  you  did  give  me!  and  how  glad 
and  grateful  I  am  it  ain't  no  worse;  for  luck's  against 
us,  and  it  never  rains  but  it  pours,  and  when  I  see 
that  truck  I  thought  we'd  lost  you,  for  I  knowed  by 
the  color  and  all  it  was  just  like  your  brains  would 
be  if —  Dear,  dear,  whyd'nt  you  tell  me  that  was 
what  you'd  been  down  there  for,  I  wouldn't  'a'  cared. 
Now  cler  out  to  bed,  and  don't  lemrne  see  no  more 
of  you  till  morning!" 

I  was  up-stairs  in  a  second,  and  down  the  lightning- 
rod  in  another  one,  and  shinning  through  the  dark 
for  the  lean-to.  I  couldn't  hardly  get  my  words  out, 
I  was  so  anxious;  but  I  told  Tom  as  quick  as  I  could 
we  must  jump  for  it  now,  and  not  a  minute  to  lose— 
the  house  full  of  men,  yonder,  with  guns! 

His  eyes  just  blazed;  and  he  says: 

"No!— is  that  so?  Ain't  it  bully!  Why,  Huck, 
377 


MARK  TWAIN 


if  it  was  to  do  over  again,  I  bet  I  could  fetch  two 
hundred!    If  we  could  put  it  off  till — " 

"Hurry!  hurry!"  I  says.    "Where's  Jim?" 

"Right  at  your  elbow;  if  you  reach  out  your  arm 
you  can  touch  him.  He's  dressed,  and  everything's 
ready.  Now  we'll  slide  out  and  give  the  sheep- 
signal." 

But  then  we  heard  the  tramp  of  men  coming  to 
the  door,  and  heard  them  begin  to  fumble  with  the 
padlock,  and  heard  a  man  say: 

"I  told  you  we'd  be  too  soon;  they  haven't  come 
— the  door  is  locked.  Here,  I'll  lock  some  of  you 
into  the  cabin,  and  you  lay  for  'em  in  the  dark 
and  kill  'em  when  they  come;  and  the  rest  scatter 
around  a  piece,  and  listen  if  you  can  hear  'em 
coming." 

So  in  they  come,  but  couldn't  see  us  in  the  dark, 
and  most  trod  on  us  whilst  we  was  hustling  to  get 
under  the  bed.  But  we  got  under  all  right,  and  out 
through  the  hole,  swift  but  soft — Jim  first,  me  next, 
and  Tom  last,  which  was  according  to  Tom's  orders. 
Now  we  was  in  the  lean-to,  and  heard  trampings 
close  by  outside.  So  we  crept  to  the  door,  and  Tom 
stopped  us  there  and  put  his  eye  to  the  crack,  but 
couldn't  make  out  nothing,  it  was  so  dark;  and 
whispered  and  said  he  would  listen  for  the  steps  to 
get  further,  and  when  he  nudged  us  Jim  must  glide 
out  first,  and  him  last.  So  he  set  his  ear  to  the  crack 
and  listened,  and  listened,  and  listened,  and  the 
steps  a-scraping  around  out  there  all  the  time;  and 
at  last  he  nudged  us,  and  we  slid  out,  and  stooped 
down,  not  breathing,  and  not  making  the  least  noise, 

37* 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN" 


and  slipped  stealthy  towards  the  fence  in  Injun  file, 
and  got  to  it  all  right,  and  me  and  Jim  over  it;  but 
Tom's  britches  catched  fast  on  a  splinter  on  the  top 
rail,  and  then  he  hear  the  steps  coming,  so  he  had 
to  pull  loose,  which  snapped  the  splinter  and  made 
a  noise;  and  as  he  dropped  in  our  tracks  and  started 
somebody  sings  out: 

" Who's  that?    Answer,  or  I'll  shoot!" 

But  we  didn't  answer;  we  just  unfurled  our  heels 
and  shoved.  Then  there  was  a  rush,  and  a  bang, 
bang,  bang!  and  the  bullets  fairly  whizzed  around  us ! 
We  heard  them  sing  out: 

"Here  they  are!  They've  broke  for  the  river! 
After  'em,  boys,  and  turn  loose  the  dogs!" 

So  here  they  come,  full  tilt.  We  could  hear  them 
because  they  wore  boots  and  yelled,  but  we  didn't 
wear  no  boots  and  didn't  yell.  We  was  in  the  path 
to  the  mill;  and  when  they  got  pretty  close  onto  us 
we  dodged  into  the  bush  and  let  them  go  by,  and 
then  dropped  in  behind  them.  They'd  had  all  the 
dogs  shut  up,  so  they  wouldn't  scare  off  the  robbers; 
but  by  this  time  somebody  had  let  them  loose,  and 
here  they  come,  making  powwow  enough  for  a 
million;  but  they  was  our  dogs;  so  we  stopped  in  our 
tracks  till  they  catched  up;  and  when  they  see  it 
warn't  nobody  but  us,  and  no  excitement  to  offer 
them,  they  only  just  said  howdy,  and  tore  right 
ahead  towards  the  shouting  and  clattering;  and  then 
we  up-steam  again,  and  whizzed  along  after  them 
till  we  was  nearly  to  the  mill,  and  then  struck  up 
through  the  bush  to  where  my  canoe  was  tied,  and 
hopped  in  and  pulled  for  dear  life  towards  the  middle 

a7Q  M.T.-3-13 


MARK  TWAIN 


of  the  river,  but  didn't  make  no  more  noise  than  we 
was  obleeged  to.  Then  we  struck  out,  easy  and 
comfortable,  for  the  island  where  my  raft  was;  and 
we  could  hear  them  yelling  and  barking  at  each 
other  all  up  and  down  the  bank,  till  we  was  so  far 
away  the  sounds  got  dim  and  died  out.  And  when 
we  stepped  onto  the  raft  I  says: 

"Now,  old  Jim,  you're  a  free  man  again,  and  I 
bet  you  won't  ever  be  a  slave  no  more." 

"En  a  mighty  good  job  it  wuz,  too,  Huck.  It  'uz 
planned  beautiful,  en  it  'uz  done  beautiful;  en  dey 
ain't  nobody  kin  git  up  a  plan  dat's  mo'  mixed  up 
ien  splendid  den  what  dat  one  wuz." 

We  was  all  glad  as  we  could  be,  but  Tom  was  the 
gladdest  of  all  because  he  had  a  bullet  in  the  calf 
of  his  leg. 

When  me  and  Jim  heard  that  we  didn't  feel  as 
brash  as  what  we  did  before.  It  was  hurting  him 
considerable,  and  bleeding;  so  we  laid  him  in  the 
wigwam  and  tore  up  one  of  the  duke's  shirts  for  to 
bandage  him,  but  he  says: 

"Gimme  the  rags;  I  can  do  it  myself.  Don't  stop 
now;  don't  fool  around  here,  and  the  evasion  boom- 
ing along  so  handsome;  man  the  sweeps,  and  set  her 
loose!  Boys,  we  done  it  elegant! — 'deed  we  did.  I 
wish  we'd  'a'  had  the  handling  of  Louis  XVI.,  there 
wouldn't  'a' been  no  'Son  of  Saint  Louis,  ascend  to 
heaven!'  wrote  down  in  his  biography;  no,  sir,  we'd 
'a'  whooped  him  over  the  border — that's  what  we'd 
V  done  with  him  — and  done  it  just  as  slick  as 
nothing  at  all,  too.  Man  the  sweeps  — man  the 
sweeps!" 

380  ■■■  .  . 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


But  me  and  Jim  was  consulting — and  thinking. 
And  after  we'd  thought  a  minute,  I  says: 
"Say  it,  Jim." 
So  he  says : 

"Well,  den,  dis  is  de  way  it  look  to  me,  Huck. 
Ef  it  wuz  him  dat  'uz  bein'  sot  free,  en  one  er  de 
boys  wuz  to  git  shot,  would  he  say,  'Go  on  en  save 
me,  nemmine  'bout  a  doctor  f'r  to  save  dis  one'? 
Is  dat  like  Mars  Tom  Sawyer?  Would  he  say  dat? 
You  bet  he  wouldn't!  Well,  den,  is  Jim  gwyne  to 
say  it?  No,  sah — I  doan'  budge  a  step  out'n  dis 
place  'dout  a  doctor;  not  if  it's  forty  year!" 

I  knowed  he  was  white  inside,  and  I  reckoned  he'd 
say  what  he  did  say — so  it  was  all  right  now,  and 
I  told  Tom  I  was  a-going  for  a  doctor.  He  raised 
considerable  row  about  it,  but  me  and  Jim  stuck  to 
it  and  wouldn't  budge;  so  he  was  for  crawling  out 
and  setting  the  raft  loose  himself;  but  we  wouldn't 
let  him.  Then  he  give  us  a  piece  of  his  mind,  but 
it  didn't  do  no  good. 

So  when  he  sees  me  getting  the  canoe  ready,  he 
says: 

"Well,  then,  if  you're  bound  to  go,  I'll  tell  you 
the  way  to  do  when  you  get  to  the  village.  Shut  the 
door  and  blindfold  the  doctor  tight  and  fast,  and 
make  him  swear  to  be  silent  as  the  grave,  and  put  a 
purse  full  of  gold  in  his  hand,  and  then  take  and 
lead  him  all  around  the  back  alleys  and  everywheres 
in  the  dark,  and  then  fetch  him  here  in  the  canoe, 
in  a  roundabout  way  amongst  the  islands,  and 
search  him  and  take  his  chalk  away  from  him,  and 
don't  give  it  back  to  him  till  you  get  him  back  to  the 

381 


MARK  TWAIN 

village,  or  else  he  will  chalk  this  raft  so  he  can  find 
it  again.    It's  the  way  they  all  do." 

So  I  said  I  would,  and  left,  and  Jim  was  to  hide 
in  the  woods  when  he  see  the  doctor  corning  till  he 
was  gone  again. 


382 


CHAPTER  XLI 


THE  doctor  was  an  old  man;  a  very  nice,  kind- 
looking  old  man  when  I  got  him  up.    I  told  him 
me  and  my  brother  was  over  on  Spanish  Island  hunt- 
ing yesterday  afternoon,  and  camped  on  a  piece  of 
a  raft  we  found,  and  about  midnight  he  must  V 
kicked  his  gun  in  his  dreams,  for  it  went  off  and  shot 
him  in  the  leg,  and  we  wanted  him  to  go  over  there 
and  fix  it  and  not  say  nothing  about  it,  nor  let  any- 
body know,  because  we  wanted  to  come  home  this 
evening  and  surprise  the  folks. 
4 'Who  is  your  folks?"  he  says. 
"The  Phelpses,  down  yonder." 
"Oh,"  he  says.    And  after  a  minute,  he  says 
"How'd  you  say  he  got  shot?" 
"He  had  a  dream,"  I  says,  "and  it  shot  him." 
"Singular  dream,"  he  says. 

So  he  lit  up  his  lantern,  and  got  his  saddle-bags, 
and  we'  started.  But  when  he  see  the  canoe  he 
didn't  like  the  look  of  her — said  she  was  big  enough 
for  one,  but  didn't  look  pretty  safe  for  two.    I  says : 

"Oh,  you  needn't  be  afeard,  sir,  she  carried  the 
three  of  us  easy  enough." 

"What  three?" 

"Why,  me  and  Sid,  and — and — and  the  guns; 
that's  what  I  mean." 

383 


MARK  TWAIN 


<£0h,"  he  says. 

But  he  put  his  foot  on  the  gunnel  and  rocked  her, 
and  shook  his  head,  and  said  he  reckoned  he'd  look 
around  for  a  bigger  one.  But  they  was  all  locked 
and  chained;  so  he  took  my  canoe,  and  said  for  me 
to  wait  till  he  come  back,  or  I  could  hunt  around 
further,  or  maybe  I  better  go  down  home  and  get 
them  ready  for  the  surprise  if  I  wanted  to.  But  I 
said  I  didn't;  so  I  told  him  just  how  to  find  the  raft, 
and  then  he  started. 

I  struck  an  idea  pretty  soon.  I  says  to  myself, 
spos'n  he  can't  fix  that  leg  just  in  three  shakes  of  a 
sheep's  tail,  as  the  saying  is?  spos'n  it  takes  him  three 
or  four  days?  What  are  we  going  to  do? — lay 
around  there  till  he  lets  the  cat  out  of  the  bag? 
No,  sir;  I  know  what  Til  do.  I'll  wait,  and  when  he 
comes  back  if  he  says  he's  got  to  go  any  more  I'll 
get  down  there,  too,  if  I  swim;  and  we'll  take  and 
tie  him,  and  keep  him,  and  shove  out  down  the  river; 
and  when  Tom's  done  with  him  we'll  give  him  what 
it's  worth,  or  all  we  got,  and  then  let  him  get  ashore. 

So  then  I  crept  into  a  lumber-pile  to  get  some 
sleep;  and  next  time  I  waked  up  the  sun  was  away 
up  over  my  head!  I  shot  out  and  went  for  the 
doctor's  house,  but  they  told  me  he'd  gone  away  in 
the  night  some  time  or  other,  and  warn't  back  yet. 
Well,  thinks  I,  that  looks  powerful  bad  for  Tom,  and 
I'll  dig  out  for  the  island  right  off.  So  away  I 
shoved,  and  turned  the  corner,  and  nearly  rammed 
my  head  into  Uncle  Silas's  stomach!    He  says: 

"Why,  Tom!  Where  you  been  all  this  time,  you 
rascal?" 

384 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


"I  hain't  been  nowheres,"  I  says,  "only  just 
hunting  for  the  runaway  nigger — me  and  Sid." 

"Why,  where  ever  did  you  go?"  he  says.  "Your 
aunt's  been  mighty  uneasy." 

"She  needn't,"  I  says,  "because  we  was  all 
right.  We  followed  the  men  and  the  dogs,  but  they 
outrun  us,  and  we  lost  them;  but  we  thought  we 
heard  them  on  the  water,  so  we  got  a  canoe  and 
took  out  after  them  and  crossed  over,  but  couldn't 
find  nothing  of  them;  so  we  cruised  along  up-shore 
till  we  got  kind  of  tired  and  beat  out;  and  tied  up 
the  canoe  and  went  to  sleep,  and  never  waked  up 
till  about  an  hour  ago;  then  we  paddled  over  here 
to  hear  the  news,  and  Sid's  at  the  post-office  to  see 
what  he  can  hear,  and  I'm  a-branching  out  to  get 
something  to  eat  for  us,  and  then  we're  going  home." 

So  then  we  went  to  the  post-office  to  get  "Sid"; 
but  just  as  I  suspicioned,  he  warn't  there;  so  the  old 
man  he  got  a  letter  out  of  the  office,  and  we  waited 
awhile  longer,  but  Sid  didn't  come;  so  the  old  man 
said,  come  along,  let  Sid  foot  it  home,  or  canoe  it, 
when  he  got  done  fooling  around — but  we  would 
ride.  I  couldn't  get  him  to  let  me  stay  and  wait 
for  Sid;  and  he  said  there  warn't  no  use  in  it,  and  I 
must  come  along,  and  let  Aunt  Sally  see  we  was  all 
right. 

When  we  got  home  Aunt  Sally  was  that  glad  to 
see  me  she  laughed  and  cried  both,  and  hugged  me, 
and  give  me  one  of  them  lickings  of  hern  that  don't 
amount  to  shucks,  and  said  she'd  serve  Sid  the  same 
when  he  come. 

And  the  place  was  plum  full  of  farmers  and  farmers' 

38s 


MARK  TWAIN 


wives,  to  dinner;  and  such  another  clack  a  body 
never  heard.  Old  Mrs.  Hotchkiss  was  the  worst; 
her  tongue  was  a-going  all  the  time.    She  says: 

4  4  Well,  Sister  Phelps,  I've  ransacked  that-air 
cabin  over,  an'  I  b'lieve  the  nigger  was  crazy.  I 
says  to  Sister  Damrell — didn't  I,  Sister  Damrell? — 
s'l,  he's  crazy,  s'l — them's  the  very  words  I  said. 
You  all  hearn  me:  he's  crazy,  s'l;  everything  shows 
it,  s'l.  Look  at  that-air  grindstone,  s'l;  want  to  tell 
meH  any  cretur  't's  in  his  right  mind  's  a-goin'  to 
scrabble  all  them  crazy  things  onto  a  grindstone?  s'l. 
Here  sich  'n'  sich  a  person  busted  his  heart ;  'n'  here 
so  'n'  so  pegged  along  for  thirty-seven  year,  'n*  all 
that — natcherl  son  o'  Louis  somebody,  'n'  sich  ever- 
Jast'n  rubbage.  He's  plumb  crazy,  s'l;  it's  what  I 
says  in  the  fust  place,  it's  what  I  says  in  the  middle, 
'n'  it's  what  I  says  last  'n'  all  the  time — the  nigger's 
crazy — crazy  's  Nebokoodneezer,  s'l." 

"An'  look  at  that-air  ladder  made  out'n  rags, 
Sister  Hotchkiss,"  says  old  Mrs.  Damrell;  "what  in 
the  name  o'  goodness  could  he  ever  want  of — " 

"The  very  words  I  was  a-sayin'  no  longer  ago  th'n 
this  minute  to  Sister  Utterback,  'n'  she'll  tell  you 
so  herself.  Sh-she,  look  at  that-air  rag  ladder, 
sh-she;  'n'  s'l,  }Tes,  look  at  it,  s'l — what  could  he 
'a'  wanted  of  it?  s'l.  Sh-she,  Sister  Hotchkiss, 
sh-she—" 

"But  how  in  the  nation'd  they  ever  git  that 
grindstone  in  there,  anyway?  'n'  who  dug  that-air 
hole?  'n'  who—" 

"My  very  words,  Brer  Penrod!  I  was  a-sayin' — 
pass  that-air  sasser  o'  m'lasses,  won't  ye? — I  was 

386 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


a-sayin'  to  Sister  Dunlap,  jist  this  minute,  how  did 
they  git  that  grindstone  in  there  ?  s'L  Without  help, 
mind  you — 'thout  help!  Thar's  where  'tis.  Don't 
tell  me,  sT;  there  wuz  help,  sT;  'n'  ther'  wuz  a  plenty 
help,  too,  s'l ;  ther's  ben  a  dozen  a-helpin'  that  nigger, 
'n'  I  lay  I'd  skin  every  last  nigger  on  this  place  but 
Td  find  out  who  done  it,  s'l;  'n'  moreover,  s'l — " 

"A  dozen  says  you! — forty  couldn't  'a'  done  every- 
thing that's  been  done.  Look  at  them  case-knife 
saws  and  things,  how  tedious  they've  been  made; 
look  at  that  bed-leg  sawed  off  with  'm,  a  week's 
work  for  six  men:  look  at  that  nigger  made  out'n 
straw  on  the  bed;  and  look  at — " 

"You  may  well  say  it,  Brer  Hightower!  It's  jist 
as  I  was  a-sayin'  to  Brer  Phelps,  his  own  self.  S'e, 
what  do  you  think  of  it,  Sister  Hotchkiss?  s'e.  Think 
o'  what,  Brer  Phelps?  s'l.  Think  o'  that  bed-leg 
sawed  off  that  a  way?  s'e.  Think  of  it?  s'l.  I  lay 
it  never  sawed  itself  off,  s'l — somebody  sawed  it,  s'l ; 
that's  my  opinion,  take  it  or  leave  it,  it  mayn't  be 
no  'count,  sT,  but  sich  as 't  is,  it's  my  opinion,  s'l, 
'n'  if  anybody  k'n  start  a  better  one,  sT,  let  him  do 
it,  sT,  that's  all.    I  says  to  Sister  Dunlap,  s'l — " 

"Why,  dog  my  cats,  they  must  'a'  ben  a  house-full 
o'  niggers  in  there  every  night  for  four  weeks  to  'a' 
done  all  that  work,  Sister  Phelps.  Look  at  that 
shirt — every  last  inch  of  it  kivered  over  with  secret 
African  writ'n  done  with  blood !  Must  'a'  ben  a  raft 
uv 'm  at  it  right  along,  all  the  time,  amost.  Why, 
I'd  give  two  dollars  to  have  it  read  to  me;  'n'  as  for 
the  niggers  that  wrote  it,  I  'low  I'd  take  'n'  lash 'm 
t'll — 

387 


MARK  TWAIN 


"People  to  help  him,  Brother  Marples!  Well,  I 
reckon  you'd  think  so  if  you'd  'a'  been  in  this  house 
for  a  while  back.  Why,  they've  stole  everything 
they  could  lay  their  hands  on — and  we  a-watching 
all  the  time,  mind  you.  They  stole  that  shirt  right 
off  o'  the  line!  and  as  for  that  sheet  they  made  the 
rag  ladder  out  of,  ther'  ain't  no  telling  how  many 
times  they  didn't  steal  that;  and  flour,  and  candles, 
and  candlesticks,  and  spoons,  and  the  old  warming- 
pan,  and  most  a  thousand  things  that  I  disremember 
now,  and  my  new  calico  dress ;  and  me  and  Silas  and 
my  Sid  and  Tom  on  the  constant  watch  day  and 
night,  as  I  was  a-telling  you,  and  not  a  one  of  us 
could  catch  hide  nor  hair  nor  sight  nor  sound  of 
them;  and  here  at  the  last  minute,  lo  and  behold 
you,  they  slides  right  in  under  our  noses  and  fools 
us,  and  not  only  fools  us  but  the  Injun  Territory 
robbers  too,  and  actuly  gets  away  with  that  nigger 
safe  and  sound,  and  that  with  sixteen  men  and  twenty- 
two  dogs  right  on  their  very  heels  at  that  very  time! 
I  tell  you,  it  just  bangs  anything  I  ever  heard  of. 
Why,  sperits  couldn't  'a'  done  better  and  been  no 
smarter.  And  I  reckon  they  must  'a'  been  sperits — 
because,  you  know  our  dogs,  and  ther'  ain't  no  better; 
well,  them  dogs  never  even  got  on  the  track  of 'm  once! 
You  explain  that  to  me  if  you  can! — any  of  you!" 

"Well,  it  does  beat—" 

"Laws  alive,  I  never — " 

"So  help  me,  I  wouldn't  'a'  be— " 

*  *  House-thieves  as  well  as — " 

"  Goodnessgracioussakes,  I'd  'a*  ben  afeard  to  live 
in  sich  a — " 

338 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 

"'Fraid  to  live! — why,  I  was  that  scared  I  dasn't 
hardly  go  to  bed,  or  get  up,  or  lay  down,  or  set 
down,  Sister  Ridgeway.  Why,  they'd  steal  the  very 
— why,  goodness  sakes,  you  can  guess  what  kind  of 
a  fluster  I  was  in  by  the  time  midnight  come  last 
night.  I  hope  to  gracious  if  I  warn't  afraid  they'd 
steal  some  o'  the  family!  I  was  just  to  that  pass  I 
didn't  have  no  reasoning  faculties  no  more.  It  looks 
foolish  enough  now,  in  the  daytime;  but  I  says  to 
myself,  there's  my  two  poor  boys  asleep,  'way  up- 
stairs in  that  lonesome  room,  and  I  declare  to  good- 
ness I  was  that  uneasy  't  I  crep'  up  there  and  locked 
'em  in!  I  did.  And  anybody  would.  Because,  you 
know,  when  you  get  scared  that  way,  and  it  keeps 
running  on,  and  getting  worse  and  worse  all  the 
time,  and  your  wits  gets  to  addling,  and  you  get  to 
doing  all  sorts  o'  wild  things,  and  by  and  by  you 
think  to  yourself,  spos'n  I  was  a  boy,  and  was  away 
up  there,  and  the  door  ain't  locked,  and  you — " 
She  stopped,  looking  kind  of  wondering,  and  then 
she  turned  her  head  around  slow,  and  when  her 
eye  lit  on  me — I  got  up  and  took  a  walk. 

Says  I  to  myself,  I  can  explain  better  how  we  come 
to  not  be  in  that  room  this  morning  if  I  go  out  to 
one  side  and  study  over  it  a  little.  So  I  done  it. 
But  I  dasn't  go  fur,  or  she'd  'a'  sent  for  me.  And 
when  it  was  late  in  the  day  the  people  all  went,  and 
then  I  come  in  and  told  her  the  noise  and  shooting 
waked  up  me  and  "Sid,"  and  the  door  was  locked, 
and  we  wanted  to  see  the  fun,  so  we  went  down  the 
lightning-rod,  and  both  of  us  got  hurt  a  little,  and 
we  didn't  never  want  to  try  that  no  more.    And  then 

389 


MARK  TWAIN 


I  went  on  and  told  her  all  what  I  told  Uncle  Silas 
before;  and  then  she  said  she'd  forgive  us,  and  maybe 
it  was  all  right  enough  anyway,  and  about  what  a 
body  might  expect  of  boys,  for  all  boys  was  a  pretty 
harum-scarum  lot  as  fur  as  she  could  see;  and  so,  as 
long  as  no  harm  hadn't  come  of  it,  she  judged  she 
better  put  in  her  time  being  grateful  we  was  alive 
and  well  and  she  had  us  still,  stead  of  fretting  over 
what  was  past  and  done.  So  then  she  kissed  me, 
and  patted  me  on  the  head,  and  dropped  into  a  kind 
of  a  brown-study ;  and  pretty  soon  jumps  up,  and  says : 

"Why,  lawsamercy,  it's  most  night,  and  Sid  not 
come  yet!   What  has  become  of  that  boy?" 

I  see  my  chance;  so  I  skips  up  and  says: 

"I'll  run  right  up  to  town  and  get  him,,,  I  says. 

"No  you  won't,"  she  says.  "You'll  stay  right 
wrier*  you  are;  one's  enough  to  be  lost  at  a  time.  If 
he  ain't  here  to  supper,  your  uncle  '11  go." 

Well,  he  warn't  there  to  supper;  so  right  after 
supper  uncle  went. 

He  come  back  about  ten  a  little  bit  uneasy ;  hadn't 
run  across  Tom's  track.  Aunt  Sally  was  a  good  deal 
uneasy;  but  Uncle  Silas  he  said  there  warn't  no 
occasion  to  be — boys  will  be  boys,  he  said,  and  you'll 
see  this  one  turn  up  in  the  morning  all  sound  and 
right.  So  she  had  to  be  satisfied.  But  she  said 
she'd  set  up  for  him  awhile  anyway,  and  keep  a  light 
burning  so  he  could  see  it. 

And  then  when  I  went  up  to  bed  she  come  up  with 
me  and  fetched  her  candle,  and  tucked  me  in,  and 
mothered  me  so  good  I  felt  mean,  and  like  I  couldn't 
look  her  in  the  face;  and  she  set  down  on  the  bed 

390 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


and  talked  with  me  a  long  time,  and  said  what  a 
splendid  boy  Sid  was,  and  didn't  seem  to  want  tc 
ever  stop  talking  about  him;  and  kept  asking  me 
every  now  and  then  if  I  reckoned  he  could  'a'  got 
lost,  or  hurt,  or  maybe  drownded,  and  might  be 
laying  at  this  minute  somewheres  suffering  or  dead, 
and  she  not  by  him  to  help  him,  and  so  the  tears 
would  drip  down  silent,  and  I  would  tell  her  that 
Sid  was  all  right,  and  would  be  home  in  the  morning, 
sure;  and  she  would  squeeze  my  hand,  or  maybe  kiss 
me,  and  tell  me  to  say  it  again,  and  keep  on  saying 
it,  because  it  done  her  good,  and  she  was  in  so  much 
trouble.  And  when  she  was  going  away  she  looked 
down  in  my  eyes  so  steady  and  gentle,  and  says : 

"The  door  ain't  going  to  be  locked,  Tom,  and 
there's  the  window  and  the  rod;  but  you'll  be  good, 
won't  you?   And  you  won't  go?    For  my  sake." 

Laws  knows  I  wanted  to  go  bad  enough  to  see 
about  Tom,  and  was  all  intending  to  go;  but  after 
that  I  wouldn't  'a'  went,  not  for  kingdoms. 

But  she  was  on  my  mind  and  Tom  was  on  my 
mind,  so  I  slept  very  restless.  And  twice  I  went 
down  the  rod  away  in  the  night,  and  slipped  around 
front,  and  see  her  setting  there  by  her  candle  in  the 
window  with  her  eyes  towards  the  road  and  the 
tears  in  them;  and  I  wished  I  could  do  something  for 
her,  but  I  couldn't,  only  to  swear  that  I  wouldn't 
never  do  nothing  to  grieve  her  any  more.  And  the 
third  time  I  waked  up  at  dawn,  and  slid  down,  and 
she  was  there  yet,  and  her  candle  was  most  out,  and 
her  old  gray  head  was  resting  on  her  hand,  and  she 
was  asleep. 

39* 


CHAPTER  XLII 


THE  old  man  was  up-town  again  before  breakfast, 
but  couldn't  get  no  track  of  Tom;  and  both  of 
them  set  at  the  table  thinking,  and  not  saying  noth- 
ing, and  looking  mournful,  and  their  coffee  getting 
cold,  and  not  eating  anything.  And  by  and  by  the 
old  man  says: 

"Did  I  give  you  the  letter?" 
"What  letter?" 

"The  one  I  got  yesterday  out  of  the  post-office." 
"No,  you  didn't  give  me  no  letter." 
"Well,  I  must  'a'  forgot  it." 

So  he  rummaged  his  pockets,  and  then  went  off 
somewheres  where  he  had  laid  it  down,  and  fetched 
it,  and  give  it  to  her.    She  says : 

"Why,  it's  from  St.  Petersburg — it's  from  Sis." 

I  allowed  another  walk  would  do  me  good;  but  I 
couldn't  stir.  But  before  she  could  break  it  open 
she  dropped  it  and  run — for  she  see  something.  And 
so  did  I.  It  was  Tom  Sawyer  on  a  mattress;  and 
that  old  doctor;  and  Jim,  in  her  calico  dress,  with  his 
hands  tied  behind  him;  and  a  lot  of  people.  I  hid 
the  letter  behind  the  first  thing  that  come  handy,  and 
nished.   She  flung  herself  at  Tom,  crying,  and  says: 

"Oh,  he's  dead,  he's  dead,  I  know  he's  dead!" 

And  Tom  he  turned  his  head  a  little,  and  muttered 
392 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


something  or  other,  which  showed  he  warn't  in  his 
right  mind;  then  she  flung  up  her  hands,  and  says: 

"He's  alive,  thank  God!  And  that's  enough!" 
and  she  snatched  a  kiss  of  him,  and  flew  for  the 
house  to  get  the  bed  ready,  and  scattering  orders 
right  and  left  at  the  niggers  and  everybody  else,  as 
fast  as  her  tongue  could  go,  every  jump  of  the  way. 

I  followed  the  men  to  see  what  they  was  going 
to  do  with  Jim;  and  the  old  doctor  and  Uncle  Silas 
followed  after  Tom  into  the  house.  The  men  was 
very  huffy,  and  some  of  them  wanted  to  hang  Jim 
for  an  example  to  all  the  other  niggers  around  there, 
so  they  wouldn't  be  trying  to  run  away  like  Jim  done, 
and  making  such  a  raft  of  trouble,  and  keeping  a 
whole  family  scared  most  to  death  for  days  and 
nights.  But  the  others  said,  don't  do  it,  it  wouldn't 
answer  at  all;  he  ain't  our  nigger,  and  his  owner 
would  turn  up  and  make  us  pay  for  him,  sure.  So 
that  cooled  them  down  a  little,  because  the  people 
that's  always  the  most  anxious  for  to  hang  a  nigger 
that  hain't  done  just  right  is  always  the  very  ones 
that  ain't  the  most  anxious  to  pay  for  him  when 
they've  got  their  satisfaction  out  of  him. 

They  cussed  Jim  considerble,  though,  and  give  him 
a  cuff  or  two  side  the  head  once  in  a  while,  but  Jim 
never  said  nothing,  and  he  never  let  on  to  know  me, 
and  they  took  him  to  the  same  cabin,  and  put  his 
own  clothes  on  him,  and  chained  him  again,  and  not 
to  no  bed-leg  this  time,  but  to  a  big  staple  drove  into 
the  bottom  log,  and  chained  his  hands,  too,  and 
both  legs,  and  said  he  warn't  to  have  nothing  but 
bread  and  water  to  eat  after  this  till  his  owner  come, 

393 


MARK  TWAIN 


or  he  was  sold  at  auction  because  he  didn't  come  in  a 
certain  length  of  time,  and  filled  up  our  hole,  and 
said  a  couple  of  farmers  with  guns  must  stand  watch 
around  about  the  cabin  every  night,  and  a  bulldog 
tied  to  the  door  in  the  daytime;  and  about  this  time 
they  was  through  with  the  job  and  was  tapering  off 
with  a  kind  of  generl  good -by  cussing,  and  then 
the  old  doctor  comes  and  takes  a  look,  and  says: 

"Don't  be  no  rougher  on  him  than  you're  obleeged 
to,  because  he  ain't  a  bad  nigger.  When  I  got  to 
where  I  found  the  boy  I  see  I  couldn't  cut  the  bullet 
out  without  some  help,  and  he  warn't  in  no  condition 
for  me  to  leave  to  go  and  get  help;  and  he  got  a 
little  worse  and  a  little  worse,  and  after  a  long  time 
he  went  out  of  his  head,  and  wouldn't  let  me  come 
a-nigh  him  any  more,  and  said  if  I  chalked  his  raft 
he'd  kill  me,  and  no  end  of  wild  foolishness  like  that, 
and  I  see  I  couldn't  do  anything  at  all  with  him;  so 
I  says,  I  got  to  have  help  somehow;  and  the  minute 
I  says  it  out  crawls  this  nigger  from  somewheres  and 
says  he'll  help,  and  he  done  it,  too,  and  done  it  very 
well.  Of  course  I  judged  he  must  be  a  runaway 
nigger,  and  there  I  was!  and  there  I  had  to  stick 
right  straight  along  all  the  rest  of  the  day  and  all 
night.  It  was  a  fix,  I  tell  you!  I  had  a  couple  of 
patients  with  the  chills,  and  of  course  I'd  of  liked  to 
run  up  to  town  and  see  them,  but  I  dasn't,  because 
the  nigger  might  get  away,  and  then  I'd  be  to  blame; 
and  yet  never  a  skiff  come  close  enough  for  me  to 
hail.  So  there  I  had  to  stick  plumb  until  daylight 
this  morning;  and  I  never  see  a  nigger  that  was  a 
better  nuss  or  faithfuler,  and  yet  he  was  risking 

394 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


his  freedom  to  do  it,  and  was  all  tired  out,  too,  and 
I  see  plain  enough  he'd  been  worked  main  hard 
lately.  I  liked  the  nigger  for  that ;  I  tell  you,  gentle- 
men, a  nigger  like  that  is  worth  a  thousand  dollars — 
and  kind  treatment,  too.  I  had  everything  I  needed, 
and  the  boy  was  doing  as  well  there  as  he  would  V 
done  at  home — better,  maybe,  because  it  was  so 
quiet;  but  there  I  was,  with  both  of  'm  on  my  hands, 
and  there  I  had  to  stick  till  about  dawn  this  morning  ; 
then  some  men  in  a  skiff  come  by,  and  as  good  luck 
would  have  it  the  nigger  was  setting  by  the  pallet 
with  his  head  propped  on  his  knees  sound  asleep;  so 
I  motioned  them  in  quiet,  and  they  slipped  up  on 
him  and  grabbed  him  and  tied  him  before  he  knowed 
what  he  was  about,  and  we  never  had  no  trouble. 
And  the  boy  being  in  a  kind  of  a  flighty  sleep,  too, 
we  muffled  the  oars  and  hitched  the  raft  on,  and 
towed  her  over  very  nice  and  quiet,  and  the  nigger 
never  made  the  least  row  nor  said  a  word  from  the 
start.  He  ain't  no  bad  nigger,  gentlemen;  that's 
what  I  think  about  him." 
Somebody  says: 

"Well,  it  sounds  very  good,  doctor,  I'm  obleeged 
to  say." 

Then  the  others  softened  up  a  little,  too,  and  I  was 
mighty  thankful  to  that  old  doctor  for  doing  Jim  that 
good  turn;  and  I  was  glad  it  was  according  to  my 
judgment  of  him,  too;  because  I  thought  he  had  a 
good  heart  in  him  and  was  a  good  man  the  first  time 
I  see  him.  Then  they  all  agreed  that  Jim  had  acted 
very  well,  and  was  deserving  to  have  some  notice 
took  of  it,  and  reward.    So  every  one  of  them 

395 


MARK  TWAIN 


promised,  right  out  and  hearty,  that  they  wouldn't 
cuss  him  no  more. 

Then  they  come  out  and  locked  him  up.  I  hoped 
they  was  going  to  say  he  could  have  one  or  two  of  the 
chains  took  off,  because  they  was  rotten  heavy,  or 
could  have  meat  and  greens  with  his  bread  and 
water;  but  they  didn't  think  of  it,  and  I  reckoned 
it  warn't  best  for  me  to  mix  in,  but  I  judged  I'd  get 
the  doctor's  yarn  to  Aunt  Sally  somehow  or  other  as 
soon  as  I'd  got  through  the  breakers  that  was  laying 
Just  ahead  of  me — explanations,  I  mean,  of  how  I 
forgot  to  mention  about  Sid  being  shot  when  I  was 
telling  how  him  and  me  put  in  that  dratted  night 
paddling  around  hunting  the  runaway  nigger. 

But  I  had  plenty  time.  Aunt  Sally  she  stuck  to 
the  sick-room  all  day  and  all  night,  and  every  time 
I  see  Uncle  Silas  mooning  around  I  dodged  him. 

Next  morning  I  heard  Tom  was  a  good  deal  better, 
and  they  said  Aunt  Sally  was  gone  to  get  a  nap.  So 
I  slips  to  the  sick-room,  and  if  I  found  him  awake  I 
reckoned  we  could  put  up  a  yam  for  the  family  that 
would  wash.  But  he  was  sleeping,  and  sleeping  very 
peaceful,  too;  and  pale,  not  fire-faced  the  way  he  was 
when  he  come.  So  I  set  down  and  laid  for  him  to 
wake.  In  about  half  an  hour  Aunt  Sally  comes  glid- 
ing in,  and  there  I  was,  up  a  stump  again !  She  mo- 
tioned me  to  be  still,  and  set  down  by  me,  and  begun 
to  whisper,  and  said  we  could  all  be  joyful  now,  be- 
cause all  the  symptoms  was  first-rate,  and  he'd  been 
sleeping  like  that  for  ever  so  long,  and  looking  better 
and  peacefuler  all  the  time,  and  ten  to  one  he'd 
wake  up  in  his  right  mind. 

396 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


So  we  set  there  watching,  and  by  and  by  he  stirs  a 
bit,  and  opened  his  eyes  very  natural,  and  takes  a 
look,  and  says: 

"  Hello!  —  why,  I'm  at  home!  How's  that? 
Where's  the  raft?" 

"It's  all  right,"  I  says. 

"And  Jim?" 

"The  same,"  I  says,  but  couldn't  say  it  pretty 
brash.    But  he  never  noticed,  but  says: 

1 \  Good !  Splendid !  Now  we're  all  right  and  safe ! 
Did  you  tell  Aunty?" 

I  was  going  to  say  yes ;  but  she  chipped  in  and  says : 

"About  what,  Sid?" 

"Why,  about  the  way  the  whole  thing  was  done.'* 
"What  whole  thing?" 

"Why,  the  whole  thing.  There  ain't  but  one;  how 
we  set  the  runaway  nigger  free — me  and  Tom." 

"Good  land!  Set  the  run —  What  is  the  child 
talking  about!    Dear,  dear,  out  of  his  head  again!" 

"No,  I  ain't  out  of  my  head;  I  know  all  what  I'm 
talking  about.  We  did  set  him  free — me  and  Tom. 
We  laid  out  to  do  it,  and  we  done  it.  And  we  done 
it  elegant,  too."  He'd  got  a  start,  and  she  never 
checked  him  up,  just  set  and  stared  and  stared,  and 
let  him  clip  along,  and  I  see  it  warn't  no  use  for  me  to 
put  in.  "Why,  Aunty,  it  cost  us  a  power  of  work — ■ 
weeks  of  it — hours  and  hours,  every  night,  whilst  you 
was  all  asleep.  And  we  had  to  steal  candles,  and  the 
sheet,  and  the  shirt,  and  your  dress,  and  spoons,  and 
tin  plates,  and  case-knives,  and  the  warming-pan,  and 
the  grindstone,  and  flour,  and  just  no  end  of  things, 
and  you  can't  think  what  work  it  was  to  make  the 

397 


MARK  TWAIN 


caws,  and  i  pens,  and  inscriptions,  and  one  thing  or 
another,  and  you  can't  think  half  the  fun  it  was. 
And  we  had  to  make  up  the  pictures  of  coffins  and 
things,  and  nonnamous  letters  from  the  robbers, 
and  get  up  and  down  the  lightning-rod,  and  dig  the 
hole  into  the  cabin,  and  make  the  rope  ladder  and 
send  it  in  cooked  up  in  a  pie,  and  send  in  spoons  and 
things  to  work  with  in  your  apron  pocket — " 
4 'Mercy  sakes!" 

" — and  load  up  the  cabin  with  rats  and  snakes  and 
so  on,  for  company  for  Jim;  and  then  you  kept  Tom 
here  so  long  with  the  butter  in  his  hat  that  you  come 
near  spiling  the  whole  business,  because  the  men  come 
before  we  was  out  of  the  cabin,  and  we  had  to  rush, 
and  they  heard  us  and  let  drive  at  us,  and  I  got  my 
share,  and  we  dodged  out  of  the  path  and  let  them  go 
by,  and  when  the  dogs  come  they  warn't  interested  in 
us,  but  went  for  the  most  noise,  and  we  got  our  canoe, 
and  made  for  the  raft,  and  was  all  safe,  and  Jim  was 
a  free  man,  and  we  done  it  all  by  ourselves,  and 
wasn't  it  bully,  Aunty!" 

"Well,  I  never  heard  the  likes  of  it  in  all  my  born 
days!  So  it  was  you,  you  little  rapscallions,  that's 
been  making  all  this  trouble,  and  turned  everybody's 
wits  clean  inside  out  and  scared  us  all  most  to  death. 
I've  as  good  a  notion  as  ever  I  had  in  my  life  to  take 
it  out  o'  you  this  very  minute.  To  think,  here  I've 
been,  night  after  night,  a — you  just  get  well  once,  you 
young  scamp,  and  I  lay  I'll  tan  the  Old  Harry  out  o' 
botho'  ye!" 

But  Tom,  he  was  so  proud  and  joyful,  he  just 
couldn't  hold  in,  and  his  tongue  just  went  it — she 

398 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


a-chipping  in,  and  spitting  fire  all  along,  and  both  of 
them  going  it  at  once,  like  a  cat  convention ;  and  she 
says: 

"Well,  you  get  all  the  enjoyment  you  can  out  of  it 
now,  for  mind  I  tell  you  if  I  catch  you  meddling  with 
him  again — " 

"Meddling  with  who?"  Tom  says,  dropping  his 
smile  and  looking  surprised. 

"With  who?  Why,  the  runaway  nigger,  of  course. 
Who'd  you  reckon  ?" 

Tom  looks  at  me  very  grave,  and  says : 

"Tom,  didn't  you  just  tell  me  he  was  all  right? 
Hasn't  he  got  away?" 

"Hint?"  says  Aunt  Sally;  "the  runaway  nigger? 
'Deed  he  hasn't.  They've  got  him  back,  safe  and 
sound,  and  he's  in  that  cabin  again,  on  bread  and 
water,  and  loaded  down  with  chains,  till  he's  claimed 
or  sold!" 

Tom  rose  square  up  in  bed,  with  his  eye  hot,  and 
his  nostrils  opening  and  shutting  like  gills,  and  sings 
out  to  me: 

"They  hain't  no  right  to  shut  him  up!  Shovel — 
and  don't  you  lose  a  minute.  Turn  him  loose!  he 
ain't  no  slave;  he's  as  free  as  any  cretur  that  walks 
this  earth!" 

"What  does  the  child  mean?" 

"I  mean  every  word  I  say,  Aunt  Sally,  and  if  some- 
body don't  go,  Til  go.  I've  knowed  him  all  his  life, 
and  so  has  Tom,  there.  Old  Miss  Watson  died  two 
months  ago,  and  she  was  ashamed  she  ever  was  going 
to  sell  him  down  the  river,  and  said  so;  and  she  set 
him  free  in  her  will." 

399 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Then  what  on  earth  did  you  want  to  set  him  free 
for,  seeing  he  was  already  free?" 

4 1  Well,  that  is  a  question,  I  must  say;  and  just  like 
women!  Why,  I  wanted  the  adventure  of  it;  and 
I'd  'a'  waded  neck-deep  in  blood  to — goodness  alive, 
Aunt  Polly  !" 

If  she  warn't  standing  right  there,  just  inside  the 
door,  looking  as  sweet  and  contented  as  an  angel  half 
full  of  pie,  I  wish  I  may  never ! 

Aunt  Sally  jumped  for  her,  and  most  hugged  the 
head  off  of  her,  and  cried  over  her,  and  I  found  a 
good  enough  place  for  me  under  the  bed,  for  it  was 
getting  pretty  sultry  for  us,  seemed  to  me.  And  I 
peeped  out,  and  in  a  little  while  Tom's  Aunt  Polly 
shook  herself  loose  and  stood  there  looking  across  at 
Tom  over  her  spectacles — kind  of  grinding  him  into 
the  earth,  you  know.    And  then  she  says: 

"Yes,  you  better  turn  y'r  head  away— I  would  if  I 
was  you,  Tom." 

4 'Oh,  deary  me!"  says  Aunt  Sally;  "i$  he  changed 
-so?  Why,  that  ain't  Tom,  it's  Sid;  Tom's — Tom's 
—why,  where  is  Tom?    He  was  here  a  minute  ago." 

4  4 You  mean  where's  Huck  Finn — that's  what  you 
mean!  I  reckon  I  hain't  raised  such  a  scamp  as  my 
Tom  all  these  years  not  to  know  him  when  I  see  him. 
That  would  be  a  pretty  howdy-do.  Come  out  from 
under  that  bed,  Huck  Finn." 

So  I  done  it.    But  not  feeling  brash. 

Aunt  Sally  she  was  one  of  the  mixed-upest-looking 
persons  I  ever  see — except  one,  and  that  was  Uncle 
Silas,  when  he  come  in  and  they  told  it  all  to  him.  It 
kind  of  made  him  drunk,  as  you  may  say,  and  he 

4.00 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


didn't  know  nothing  at  all  the  rest  of  the  day,  and 
preached  a  prayer-meeting  sermon  that  night  that 
gave  him  a  rattling  ruputation,  because  the  oldest 
man  in  the  world  couldn't  'a'  understood  it.  So  Tom's 
Aunt  Polly,  she  told  all  about  who  I  was,  and  what; 
and  I  had  to  up  and  tell  how  I  was  in  such  a  tight 
place  that  when  Mrs.  Phelps  took  me  for  Tom  Sawyer 
■ — she  chipped  in  and  says,  ' 'Oh,  go  on  and  call  me 
Aunt  Sally,  I'm  used  to  it  now,  and  'taint  no  need 
to  change" — that  when  Aunt  Sally  took  me  for  Tom 
Sawyer  I  had  to  stand  it — there  warn't  no  other  way, 
and  I  knowed  he  wouldn't  mind,  because  it  would 
be  nuts  for  him,  being  a  mystery,  and  he'd  make  an 
adventure  out  of  it,  and  be  perfectly  satisfied.  And 
so  it  turned  out,  and  he  let  on  to  be  Sid,  and  made 
things  as  soft  as  he  could  for  me. 

And  his  Aunt  Polly  she  said  Tom  was  right  about 
old  Miss  Watson  setting  Jim  free  in  her  will;  and  so, 
sure  enough,  Tom  Sawyer  had  gone  and  took  all  that 
trouble  and  bother  to  set  a  free  nigger  free!  and  I 
couldn't  ever  understand  before,  until  that  minute 
and  that  talk,  how  he  could  help  a  body  set  a  nigger 
free  with  his  bringing-up. 

Well,  Aunt  Polly  she  said  that  when  Aunt  Sally 
wrote  to  her  that  Tom  and  Sid  had  come  all  right 
and  safe,  she  says  to  herself: 

"Look  at  that,  now!  I  might  have  expected  it, 
letting  him  go  off  that  way  without  anybody  to 
watch  him.  So  now  I  got  to  go  and  trapse  all  the 
way  down  the  river,  eleven  hundred  mile,  and  find 
out  what  that  creetur's  up  to  this  time,  as  long  as  I 
couldn't  seem  to  get  any  answer  out  of  you  about  it/* 

401 


MARK  TWAIN 


1  'Why,  I  never  heard  nothing  from  you,"  says 
Aunt  Sally. 

4 'Well,  I  wonder!  Why,  I  wrote  you  twice  to  ask 
you  what  you  could  mean  by  Sid  being  here." 

"Well,  I  never  got  'em,  Sis." 

Aunt  Polly  she  turns  around  slow  and  severe,  and 
says: 

"You,  Tom!" 

"Well— -what?"  he  says,  kind  of  pettish. 
"Don't  you  what  me,  you  impudent  thing™— hand 
out  them  letters." 
"What  letters?" 

"Them  letters.  I  be  bound,  if  I  have  to  take 
a-holt  of  you  I'll—" 

"They're  in  the  trunk.  There,  now.  And  they're 
just  the  same  as  they  was  when  I  got  them  out  of 
the  office.  I  hain't  looked  into  them,  I  hain't 
touched  them.  But  I  knowed  they'd  make  trouble, 
and  I  thought  if  you  warn't  in  no  hurry,  I'd — " 

"Well,  you  do  need  skinning,  there  ain't  no  mis- 
take about  it.  And  I  wrote  another  one  to  tell  you 
I  was  coming;  and  I  s'pose  he — " 

"No,  it  come  yesterday;  I  hain't  read  it  yet,  but 
it's  all  right,  I've  got  that  one." 

I  wanted  to  offer  to  bet  two  dollars  she  hadn't, 
but  I  reckoned  maybe  it  was  just  as  safe  to  not  to. 
So  I  never  said  nothing. 


402 


"CHAPTER  THE  LAST 


'HE  first  time  I  catched  Tom  private  I  asked  him 


i  what  was  his  idea,  time  of  the  evasion? — what 
it  was  he'd  planned  to  do  if  the  evasion  worked  all 
right  and  he  managed  to  set  a  nigger  free  that  was 
already  free  before?  And  he  said,  what  he  had 
planned  in  his  head  from  the  start,  if  we  got  Jim  out 
all  safe,  was  for  us  to  run  him  down  the  river  on  the 
raft,  and  have  adventures  plumb  to  the  mouth  of 
the  river,  and  then  tell  him  about  his  being  free,  and 
take  him  back  up  home  on  a  steamboat,  in  style,  and 
pay  him  for  his  lost  time,  and  write  word  ahead  and 
get  out  all  the  niggers  around,  and  have  them  waltz 
him  into  town  with  a  torchlight  procession  and  a 
brass-band,  and  then  he  would  be  a  hero,  and  so 
would  we.  But  I  reckoned  it  was  about  as  well  the 
way  it  was. 

We  had  Jim  out  of  the  chains  in  no  time,  and 
when  Aunt  Polly  and  Uncle  Silas  and  Aunt  Sally 
found  out  how  good  he  helped  the  doctor  nurse  Tom, 
they  made  a  heap  of  fuss  over  him,  and  fixed  him  up 
prime,  and  give  him  all  he  wanted  to  eat,  and  a  good 
time,  and  nothing  to  do.  And  we  had  him  up  to  the 
sick-room,  and  had  a  high  talk;  and  Tom  give  Jim 
forty  dollars  for  being  prisoner  for  us  so  patient,  and 
doing  it  up  so  good,  and  Jim  was  pleased  most  to 
death,  and  busted  out,  and  says: 


MARK  TWAIN 


"Dak,  now,  Huck,  what  I  tell  you? — what  I  tell 
you  up  dah  on  Jackson  Islan'  ?  I  tole  you  I  got  a 
hairy  breas',  en  what's  de  sign  un  it;  en  I  tole  you 
I  ben  rich  wunst,  en  gwineter  to  be  rich  agin;  en 
it's  come  true;  en  heah  she  is!  Dah,  now!  doan' 
talk  to  me — signs  is  signs,  mine  I  tell  you;  en  J 
knowed  jis'  's  well  'at  I  'uz  gwineter  be  rich  ag'in  as 
I's  a-stannin'  heah  dis  minute!" 

And  then  Tom  he  talked  along  and  talked  along, 
and  says,  le's  all  three  slide  out  of  here  one  of  these 
nights  and  get  an  outfit,  and  go  for  howling  adven- 
tures amongst  the  Injuns,  over  in  the  territory,  for 
a  couple  of  weeks  or  two;  and  I  say's,  all  right,  that 
suits  me,  but  I  ain't  got  no  money  for  to  buy  the 
outfit,  and  I  reckon  I  couldn't  get  none  from  home, 
because  it's  likely  pap's  been  back  before  now,  and 
got  it  all  away  from  Judge  Thatcher  and  drunk 
it  up. 

"No,  he  hain't,"  Tom  says;  "it's  all  there  yet — 
six  thousand  dollars  and  more;  and  your  pap  hain't 
ever  been  back  since.  Hadn't  when  I  come  away, 
anyhow." 

Jim  says,  kind  of  solemn: 

"He  ain't  a-comin'  back  no  mo',  Huck." 

I  says: 

"my,  Jim?" 

"Nemmine  why,  Huck — but  he  ain't  comin'  back 
no  mo'." 

But  I  kept  at  him;  so  at  last  he  says: 
"Doan'  you  'member  de  house  dat  was  float 'n 
down  de  river,  en  dey  wuz  a  man  in  dah,  kivered 
up,  en  I  went  in  en  unkivered  him  and  didn'  let  you 

404 


HUCKLEBERRY  FINN 


come  in?  Well,  den,  you  kin  git  yo'  money  when 
you  wants  it,  kase  dat  wuz  him." 

Tom's  most  well  now,  and  got  his  bullet  around 
his  neck  on  a  watch-guard  for  a  watch,  and  is  al- 
ways seeing  what  time  it  is,  and  so  there  ain't  nothing 
more  to  write  about,  and  I  am  rotten  glad  of  it, 
because  if  I'd  'a'  knowed  what  a  trouble  it  was  to 
make  a  book  I  wouldn't  'a'  tackled  it,  and  ain't 
a-going  to  no  more.  But  I  reckon  I  got  to  light  out 
for  the  territory  ahead  of  the  rest,  because  Aunt 
Sally  she's  going  to  adopt  me  and  siviHze  me,  and 
I  can't  stand  it.    I  been  there  before. 


THE  END 


